


At the End of the World

by ScribbledGhost



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Zombie Apocalypse, cursing, smut's only in chapter 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:22:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29907264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribbledGhost/pseuds/ScribbledGhost
Summary: The world had gone to hell.The world had gone to hell, and it had seemed to catch the express train when it did.(An Agent Whiskey x Reader Zombie AU fic)
Relationships: Jack | Whiskey (Kingsman)/Reader, Jack | Whiskey (Kingsman)/You
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

The world had gone to hell.

The world had gone to hell, and it had seemed to catch the express train when it did. 

Jack Daniels woke late one night to someone pounding on his front door. He didn’t know how long they’d stood there, sounding like they were trying to break the damn door off it’s hinges, but he _did_ know that it was 3 in the morning _and_ he had work tomorrow _and_ he was _pissed_. He slid out of bed and trudged his way into his living room, cursing under his breath. He flicked the light switch on with more force than was strictly necessary, then yanked his front door open, hoping he looked ticked off enough to make whoever had been on the other side question what the fuck they thought they were doing at this time of night. 

His expression had immediately morphed into wide-eyed shock when he saw that it was _you_ on the other side, covered in blood spatter and tears rushing down your cheeks as you stared at him with a panicked look that probably rivaled his own by that point. Jack yanked you inside, immediately closing the door and making sure it was locked before turning to you and gripping you by the shoulders to look you over.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, what the fuck happened to you?” he said as he turned you this way and that, looking for any sign of obvious injury. He found none, leading him to determine that it wasn’t your own blood that you were covered with. He couldn’t discern if the feeling he felt surge through him then was relief, pride, or white-hot fear. You shook in his hands, and he saw you continuously dart your eyes around his living room as you struggled to form words. He ran his thumbs along your shoulders, hoping the action would serve to ground you and bring you back long enough for him to get a read on what the hell had happened. 

“I-I-I went to visit my parents,” you stuttered, “…the lights were on but I couldn’t see anybody in the front window and the door was open, which was weird but I didn’t think too much of it, you know? But I went inside, and… oh god Jack there was just… blood everywhere and they were dead and someone was… fuck someone was leaning over them, tearing them apart, and whoever it was saw me and ran at me and I freaked out and tried to run but they tackled me and I panicked and there was a knife on the ground so I grabbed it and…” you started hyperventilating, and Jack’s hands found your cheeks as he tried to thumb away the mix of blood and tears that had accumulated there.

“Shh, shh, shh, hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to say anythin’ else,” he said softly. “Why don’t you sit down, I’m gonna get a washrag to clean you up some, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

You nodded, your panicked look still bare on your face. Jack walked quickly to his bathroom, wasting no time in grabbing a washcloth and running it under the tap. Truthfully, he hadn’t wanted to leave you alone, even if you were mere yards away, but he knew getting the mess off of your skin would help you feel better somewhat. He still remembered the first time he’d killed someone for the Statesman, and to be quite frank he was a little surprised you weren’t in hysterics. God knows he had been, and he’d been _prepared_ for it.

He returned to find you seated stiffly on his couch, a far-off look in your eyes. He sat down next to you, putting a delicate hand on your shoulder to get your attention before he brought the damp cloth up to your face. Silent tears were still streaming down your face, but Jack made quick work of the blood and gore that had stuck to your features. He moved to your neck and arms next, grateful on your behalf that the spatter wasn’t as thick there and only seemed to be on the front of you. Once your skin was clean, Jack put a finger under your chin to turn your face to him.

“Darlin’, I don’t want you thinkin’ you’re a burden or that I’m turnin’ ya away, but… why didn’t you go to the cops?” He asked. You paused, your eyes casting downward before you answered him in a timid voice.

“You were just the first one I thought of. You do that kind of stuff all the time for work, right? Besides, I… I trust you.”

Jack felt his heart clench at your words as he let out a sigh. He once again stroked your cheek, willing himself to figure out what to do next to best help you out. He knew he’d had it bad for you for a while, the stereotypical girl-next-door crush, as far as he was concerned. But this? Seeing you wide-eyed and shaking in his living room, covered in blood and terrified? It fucked with him. He wanted to keep you in this place forever, away from the rest of the world that had done this to you. But more than that, he wanted to prove to you that your trust in him wasn’t misplaced. That he’d keep you safe. 

Jack offered to run to your place next door to grab you a fresh set of clothes. You’d sent him a wide-eyed look that told him that while you’d been okay with him being elsewhere in the same house, you drew the line at having him leave the building without you, even if it was just a couple hundred yards away. He compromised, asking if you’d come with him. Jack knew that you needed fresh clothing, and probably a shower, as he could still see flecks of gore in your hairline, but he knew better than to push anything on you before you were ready. But you’d surprised him by agreeing to his proposal, and had even mentioned needing to get cleaned up.

So he’d gotten dressed and followed you to your place, staying close by as you gathered a new outfit. He’d even sat right outside the bathroom door while you showered. He could hear a faint sound of sobbing over the shower, and had jumped to his feet, almost barging in to make sure you were alright, but he had instead opted to ask you from outside if you needed him to come in. You’d blurted out a “no”, said that you were fine, and just needed a minute. 

“Okay, sweetheart,” he said, returning to his sitting position on the floor, “I’m right here if you need me.”

“I know,” came your voice, barely audible over the water.

Several minutes later, Jack heard the water turn off, and you shuffled around the bathroom as you dried yourself off and put on your fresh clothes. Jack made his way to his feet again, still resisting the urge to walk in and fold you into an embrace as he heard your sniffles and shaky breathing. It was an urge that he gave in to as he saw you open the door, your hair still wet and your eyes still red. You gripped his shirt as you buried your face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder, and he heard several deep, uneven breaths come from you as he reached up to pet your hair. 

As the two of you stood there, a loud, deep boom sounded in the distance. It was close enough to hear, but far enough away for the shock wave to have dissipated as the sound reached your home. The two of you startled, pulling away from each other to look in the direction the sound had come from. You looked back at Jack for a moment, and he moved towards the front door with you following close behind. He poked his head outside, trying to scan the area as best as he could for any signs of smoke, fire, or other indicators of disaster, but found none. It appeared that the blast had come from far enough away to be someone else’s problem. Jack ducked back inside, letting you know that he hadn’t found any sign of immediate danger. He saw your shoulders sag a bit in relief, and he couldn’t say he blamed you. 

“Why don’t you go on and pack a bag for the night,” he said, “I’ll come with you down to the police station so you can tell ‘em what happened, then as soon as they clear us to leave, I’ll take ya home. You can stay with me for the night if you want.”

You nodded quickly, then made for your room to pack your things. Jack once again followed closely, and it was not lost on him how often you peeked around your shoulder to make sure he was still there. It wasn’t long before he was following you out the front door, pulling it closed behind him and turning the knob a few times to ensure it was locked up. He led you to his Bronco, and you quietly stepped inside after setting your bag in the backseat. As he turned the car on, he reached over to tenderly run a hand along your arm. You surprised him then, reaching a timid hand over to grab his. He recovered quickly however, and pulled your clasped hands up to his lips to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmured into the darkened car, “I’m here. Jack’s got ya.”

He couldn’t see your expression, but the way you tightened your grip on his hand told him everything he needed to know.

Jack pulled his Bronco out of the drive, and made his way to the main road into town. He knew it would take the two of you a while to get down to the station, so he contented himself with holding your hand and hoping you were calmer then than the last time you’d been in a vehicle earlier that evening. But as he pulled onto the main road into town and the city came into view, he damn near crashed the car. 

It looked like the entire world was burning.

The skyline was alight, angry yellow and orange flames digging into the night sky and bellowing out plumes of dark smoke that choked the stars. He heard you gasp next to him, and he looked over at you once he’d pulled the car over and sat silent for a moment to collect himself. At least this explained the explosion the two of you had heard earlier.

“Listen, darlin’,” he said softly, “I need to go check out what’s happenin’. Now I can either take you back home and come get you as soon as I get back, or you can come with me. Which do you want me to do?”

You turned your gaze back to the blazing city briefly before audibly swallowing.

“I’ll go with you,” you said finally, “You don’t need to waste time taking me back home. I’ll go.”

“Are you sure?” Jack asked. He knew what he was likely to find in the inferno, and he was personally of the opinion that you’d been traumatized enough that early morning. But you nodded firmly, a determination in your eyes that was reflected in the faint orange light of the flames.

He nodded in response, gripping his steering wheel with both hands before pulling the car back onto the road. There were no other vehicles to be seen, and if it had been any other time of night than almost 4am by this point, Jack would have thought something was amiss. The drive into the city was tense, and Jack found his hands attached to his steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip. About 20 minutes into the drive, Jack could start making out vague details of the destruction. Flames pouring out of high-rise buildings, smoke obscuring the view of anything higher than maybe 10 stories up, and wrecked cars flooded his vision, though he could see no people in the vehicles. 

“There’s a lot more wrong here than the fires, Jack,” he heard you say in the passenger seat. He instantly agreed with you as he slowed the Bronco down to a snail’s pace the closer he got into the main stretch of town. 

You were the one to spot the first body, letting out an audible gasp followed by an “ _Oh my god_ ” that was muffled by your hands clamped over your mouth. Jack spotted it not long after, and would have given the same reaction had he not been overcome with a visceral need to force his stomach contents to stay put. 

The body – or what was left of it – looked like it had been opened up and picked clean from the inside. There was hardly much left to begin with, with its missing limbs and torso that had been flayed open to reveal a hollow cavity inside. If it hadn’t been for the copious amounts of blood surrounding the body, Jack would have thought that it had been dumped there and animals had scavenged it. Though, if the amount of blood wasn’t enough of an indicator that it had nothing to do with animals, the next stretch of road certainly would be. 

He had to stop the car, the road too littered in corpses to drive further. The fire was blinding now, the heat creeping through his windows and roof. Jack found himself grateful that he’d chosen to keep the top up on this drive instead of lowering it like he usually did. With the car stopped, the two of you were shocked into silence. The bodies littering the streets were in various states of… disassembly. Some were as bad as the first body you two had come across, others looked virtually pristine. As if they’d just collapsed among the cadavers and died of shock. Perhaps they had. 

That was when he spotted something further down the road. A horde of shambling people, moving unnaturally among the heat and smoke. Jack reasoned that there had to be dozens of them, if not more. Some were shuffling along, heads down and trudging at a slow pace. Others seemed to be more alert, more limber and deliberate in their movements. The sight reminded Jack of something, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what. 

That is, until he spotted a figure sprinting across the street, closer to him than the group of people. They moved naturally, like he would expect a person to. He was getting ready to call out to them, honk his horn to let the person know he was there and to run to him. But just as his hand raised to his car horn, he saw the mismatched group of people further away all swivel in the direction of the runner. In a split second, those who were more agile sprang away from the group, hurtling themselves along the street. They overtook the poor person quickly, and as the victim was overwhelmed, Jack’s blood ran cold in his veins as a terrible thought clicked into place.

Pack animals. They reminded him of pack animals. Staying close to their group, knowing numbers would give them an advantage at taking down prey. Slower ones knowing the faster ones would be the meal-bringers. 

“Jack,” he was startled out of his hyper-focused state by your hand on his arm and soft voice in his ears, “turn the car around.”

His head turned to you, and he saw the sheer terror in your features outlined by the light of the fire. Your eyes were locked onto the scene in front of you, as he was sure his own had been just moments before. 

“Cut the lights,” you said slowly, “and turn the car around. They won’t be able to hear the engine over the fire, but they might get attracted to the light.”

Jack did as you told him, almost acting on autopilot. He wondered in the back of his mind how you could be so calm about what you’d just witnessed. How you could be so rational in the face of the utterly impossible. It wasn’t until he was safely turned around and driving back in the direction of home that he reasoned that you’d probably suffered so much trauma in such a short time that you’d dissociated enough to circle back to rationality. It hadn’t effected you, because your mind and body intrinsically knew that any more shock may very well have killed you. 

The drive home was silent, and Jack began formulating his own plan to get the two of you to safety. He highly doubted that your town had been the first casualty of whatever was going on, and if that were the case, simply getting the hell out of dodge wasn’t a great option. He deeply regretted not checking the news the past couple of days that he’d been off work. There had to have been some warning about whatever the fuck was going on. Then he remembered something, and felt a spark of hope light up his chest. As he pulled into his driveway, he cut the engine and immediately turned to you, cradling your face in his hands to make sure you looked at him and understood his words. 

“Listen,” he said seriously, “I need you to go to your place and pack a suitcase.” Your panicked look returned, and you opened your mouth, no doubt to refuse, but Jack interrupted you.

“I know, baby, I know, I don’t wanna let you outta my sight either right now, but I need this to be quick. I’m gonna be right next door packin’ my own stuff, I promise. Now, only pack the absolute most important things you own. Stuff like pictures, legal documents, food, medicine, anything you are gonna need to start your life completely over. Because if this is as bad as I think it might be, then that’s exactly what we’re gonna have to do. The Statesman have bunkers for these kind of Armageddon scenarios. I’d be willin’ to bet that’s where a lot of us are headed right now. But I need you to get your stuff, and meet me right back here at the car. I’m not leavin’ you here, I promise. I’m gonna take care of you.”

One of your hands came up to your cheek to cover his. You nodded then, and Jack waited until you made the move to pull away and exit the car before he dared move himself. He watched you sprint in the direction of your house, waiting until he saw you enter and close the front door before he took off to his own. He was glad his own Statesman training had prepared him to instantly discern what was important and what wasn’t in a time like this, and before long he was zipping up his suitcase and taking one brief last look around his home. Jack couldn’t deny that he felt a pang of loss crash through his chest, a feeling of mourning creeping up on him that he refused to let himself acknowledge lest he get sucked into it and not want to leave it. Then he huffed a laugh at himself, remembering a train of thought he’d had months ago.

 _Damn,_ he thought, _I know I said I’d let the world burn just to be with her, but I hadn’t fuckin’ meant it literally._

Jack grabbed his arsenal before leaving, making sure to leave no spare lasso, whip, pistol, or extra ammo behind. He made a mental checklist of all the Statesman tech he owned, taking careful stock to make sure nothing was left behind. He walked out his front door, clicking the lock into place as he did. Part of him felt silly for doing so, knowing he’d most likely never be coming back, but if he could avoid the irrational dread of knowing he left his door unlocked, he’d do it anyway. He walked back to the Bronco and hefted his suitcase into the backseat. He turned and leaned onto the side of the car, waiting for you to return. Jack had known you’d take longer, as he was sure you hadn’t exactly thought much about what you’d need to take or leave behind in a doomsday scenario. He considered running to your place to meet you there, but he thought better of it, not wanting to accidentally miss you in the dark and spend precious time trying to find you again. 

As fate would have it, he didn’t have long to wait before he saw you walking quickly out of the darkness and to him carrying your own bag. He helped you get it into the back with his own, then shut the door and turned to you, putting his hands on your shoulders and looking you in the eyes.

“You ready?” he asked. You nodded and made to leave his hold to get to the other side of the car, but he stopped you.

“Are you absolutely sure?” he asked seriously. He hoped you could catch on that he was asking if you were ready in more terms than just packed and set to go. Jack had no idea how the journey to the bunker would be, but his time at Statesman had taught him to hope for the best but expect the worst. 

“I’m sure, Jack,” you said in a tone that told him you understood. You had seemed to push down your previous trauma; likely a survival instinct, but still beneficial nonetheless. He could help you process it once the two of you were safe. Jack gave you a nod, then leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before letting you go so you could get back into the car. As he pulled back out of his drive one last time, he reached a hand over to you in the dark. The way you instantly took his hand in yours made him almost think that you’d been reaching for him as well. 

When he reached the intersection that turned onto the main road into town, he took the opposite turn, effectively leading the two of you away from the city. 

“I thought your headquarters was downtown?” you asked.

“It is, but the bunkers were built as far away from any large cities as possible,” Jack explained, “They knew that if shit hit the fan, the cities would be the first to go.” All you’d offered in response was a nod that Jack could barely see.

As he continued driving, Jack noticed that there wasn’t nearly as much carnage and destruction as there had been back in town. He also noticed that the first signs of dawn were starting to creep over the horizon, and was secretly grateful that the two of you wouldn’t be in the dark much longer. Too much shit could creep up out of the dark. By the clock in his car, Jack wagered that the two of you would be at the bunker site at around 6am. He thought about trying to contact any of his associates, to see if any of them had already made it there, but thought better of it. He had no idea what situation any of them were in, and at that point he was convinced that at least some of them were in places where a ringing phone could get them murdered. 

The drive to the bunker in the growing daylight was blessedly uneventful. At some point you’d pointed out that the news of what was going on likely hadn’t spread this far yet, especially since it had all happened so fast in the middle of the night. The true hysteria likely wouldn’t start until people started waking up, thinking they were going to work on a normal day before turning on the morning news. If any news stations were still broadcasting by that point. 

It wasn’t until Jack was in view of the building covering for the bunker that his heart sank slightly. There were no other vehicles in sight, and Jack subconsciously gripped your hand tighter at the thought that no one else he knew had made it. He tried to reason with his anxiety as he got closer, remembering your words from before. But he also knew that if the lot was empty, then that probably meant that most of the agents who had lived directly in the city were probably either already dead, or were on their way on foot. Judging by the scene from just hours prior, Jack was unfortunately inclined to believe the former. However, a macabre sense of relief shot through him at the realization that most of the people that he had personally known in the company tended to live in the country like he had. 

He pulled into the lot, grateful that the surrounding fields seemed to be completely devoid of people. The building itself was made to look like a warehouse for the Statesman, and in many ways, it was. It contained logistics offices and spacious storage areas for liquor that had already been packaged and was awaiting shipment. However, it was what was in the basement that Jack and you were there for. Down past several security measures, there was a giant sealed gateway that led further down into the earth. The area there would have enough space for dozens, perhaps hundreds of survivors, plus fully stocked rations that were replaced every few years to keep them fresh. That’s where Jack’s goal was. 

He helped you out of the car, and as you were grabbing your overnight bag and suitcase, he walked slightly ahead of you to get to the main gate. He entered his Statesman ID, and once you’d walked through the gate ahead of him, he pulled it shut again and re-armed the gate As he unlocked the front door for you and ushered you inside, he took one last look at his Bronco. He sure would miss her. 

You waited inside, letting Jack turn on any perimeter and building security measures before following him to an elevator tucked away behind some offices and away from any spying eyes. As the two of you boarded, Jack noticed that you’d almost tucked yourself into his side, standing so close to him that the two of you were almost touching, despite there being plenty of room for you to spread out. Jack shifted his bag to his other hand, winding an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him before he pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“Ain’t nothin’ gonna get us down here, sweetheart,” he murmured, “and we won’t have to go back out for a good long while once we’re in.” You let out a breath at his words, seeming to deflate slightly in relief.

The elevator jerked to a stop, and Jack led you out and into an open room with an iron door at the far end. It was large, likely so multiple waves of people and equipment could be brought in at once, but for some reason Jack had always pictured it larger. He walked up to the door, punched in his ID once again, and scanned his retina and handprint. The lock clicked, and the door began to slowly swing open on its mechanized hinges. He could see the corridor inside leading down into the main area was already lit, though the dim lightbulbs offered little in the way of extra vision. 

Jack guided you in, quickly turning to the internal keypad and closing the gate after the two of you. The tunnel itself wasn’t long, but eventually it opened up into a sprawling cavern that Jack guessed would be a staging area once more people came along. It wasn’t hard for him to find the living area that had been constructed, as it was easily the next largest area in the place. Jack had seen blueprints for the bunker when he’d joined Statesman, but he was still blown away by the sheer size of it all. It was as if they’d constructed a full-fledged city underground, if cities were only ever one story high and contained hundreds of small concrete dorm-room-like apartments. He didn’t need to see the medical facilities to know they were kept fully up-to-date with the Statesman’s capabilities, as were the research laboratories there. 

Now he just had to hope there were still medics and scientists left to fill them. 

Jack walked you to one of the many hallways of living areas, stopping in front of one of the first doors there. 

“Well, sugar, how do you wanna do this?” he asked, gesturing to the rooms. “You can have your own room, or you can stick with me.”

Oh, how he hoped you’d pick the second option.

“Can I… can I stay with you? At least for a little while, then I’ll get my own room,” you said timidly as Jack tried to restrain himself from beaming at you.

“Baby, you can stay with me for as long as you want.”

He opened the door to one of the rooms, and was met with a modest-sized bed, a table, and nothing else aside from what was in the small attached bathroom. Jack noticed with some relief that the bed looked large enough to accommodate two people. Not that he would have been opposed to you using _him_ as a bed, but those were thoughts for another time. 

The pair of you sat your bags down, not bothering to unpack before you both stood in the blank, empty room, staring at each other. Jack took in your features, his heart cracking for you at every turn. He couldn’t help but notice how _tired_ you looked, and not just physically. Your eyelids drooped, your shoulders sagged, and your head tilted downward in a look that screamed “bone-deep exhausted”. Then suddenly your arms were around his neck, and your face was buried in his shoulder. Jack instantly wrapped his arms around you in return, and the two of you held each other in a bruising grip that could only be achieved by two people who had somehow just survived the end of the fucking world.

“Thank you,” you choked out, “Thank you, Jack.”

“No, no, no,” he whispered to you, “don’t thank me. Ain’t nothin’ to thank me for.”

You pulled back from him, just enough to where the two of you could lock eyes. Before Jack could stop himself, one of his hands found the back of your head to hold you steady and his lips found yours. There was a split second before you reciprocated that Jack feared he had fucked up beyond repair, but as soon as he felt your lips slot against his and your hands settle themselves on either side of his jaw, his mind went blank. The world was dying, but in that tiny room hundreds of feet underground, with you in his arms, Jack Daniels had never felt more alive. 

The two of you parted slowly, not bothering to open your eyes as you nudged your foreheads together. As his eyes slowly opened at the same pace as yours, Jack smiled for the first time since he’d woken up that morning. You smiled at him in return, and Jack found himself kissing you again, unable to stop himself from chasing the feeling of being able to forget everything else that had happened and lose himself in you. 

The two of you were startled out of your reverie by the unmistakable sound of the iron gate opening again. Jack shared a look with you, then all at once the two of you were bolting out of the room and back to the entry tunnel. Jack’s face broke into another grin when he saw Champ walking down the ramp, his wife Maria and a couple of their own suitcases in tow. Champ let out a triumphant yell as he spotted Jack, and wasted no time in pulling him into a hug when he was close enough. Jack also gave Maria a polite embrace as well, when it appeared that Champ had noticed you tailing behind Jack.

“Well, now,” he drawled, “who’s this little lady?”

“This here’s my girl,” Jack said, putting an arm around your shoulders as he gave Champ your name. “If she hadn’t woken me up at 3am poundin’ on my door, I may not be here.”

It wasn’t lost on Jack how your head jerked over to him to look at him. He hadn’t ventured to tell you that he credited his own survival to your actions those hours prior. After all, if he hadn’t needed to take you into town, who knows when he would have found out what was going on. Probably when he tried to go into work later that morning. He shuddered to think of what size the horde of animal-like humans would have been by then. 

“Well then, miss,” Champ said, tipping his hat to you, “we owe ya a great debt. Any other folks here?”

“No, not yet,” Jack said, still keeping an arm around you, “we were the first ones here. I was just about to head over to the comm hub and see if I could get ahold of anyone here or up in New York.”

“I’ll come with ya,” Champ replied before turning to his wife, “why don’t you take these and get us a room. I’ll find ya when we’re done.”

He gave her a kiss on the cheek, then started walking across the staging area to the communications area. Maria stayed with the two of you for a moment, apparently noticing the slightly panicked look on your face at the idea of Jack leaving you alone.

“I’ll be right back, I promise,” Jack said softly with a kiss to your head.

“Why don’t you come help this old gal get a room and get unpacked?” Maria offered, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You look like you could use a rest, too, dear.”

You only nodded in response, letting go of Jack’s waist as you grabbed Champ’s bag and followed Maria to the housing area. You stole one last glance at him before disappearing around the corner, and Jack gave you a smile and a nod before turning to follow where Champ had gone. 

“So what’s the story with her?” Champ asked as Jack entered the hub. 

“My neighbor,” Jack said, “went to visit her parents last night and got attacked by one of those… things. Came and got me around 3 in the morning.”

“Not what I meant, Jack,” Champ said.

“Then what did you mean?”

“Well, for starters, I saw the way the two of ya looked at each other. And second, you don’t seem like the type’a guy to go runnin’ around callin’ a random neighbor your “girl”,” Champ said with a bemused smile, “So how long has it been?”

“Uh, well…” Jack said, rubbing the back of his neck, “Maybe…ten minutes or so?”

Champ let out a belly laugh.

“Ain’t nothin’ like the apocalypse to bring people together, huh?”

Jack let out a chuckle as he shook his head. Champ had already gotten to work booting up some of the communication devices, along with some of the generators to ensure they’d stay functional even if the power went out. Jack busied himself with trying to find a frequency that he could tap into to contact any of the other bunkers, just to see if any other one was online. He had no such luck, and when he looked over at Champ, his hat off as he ran an exasperated hand through his grayed hair, he assumed there’d been no luck there, either. 

“We’ll keep ‘em runnin’,” Champ said, “just in case someone tries to get us. It’ll probably be a good way to contact the military too at some point. I’m sure they’re all over this shit by now.”

“Do we even know what’s goin’ on?” Jack asked, “We caught a glimpse of it early this mornin’ when I tried to get her into town, but I’ll be damned if I even know what I saw.”

“Best we could gather before we took off,” Champ sighed, “Is somethin’s hit all the major cities, then some. Whatever it is, it spreads quick, everything was fine just a couple’a days ago. Makes people go… rabid, I guess. Been a lot of reports of…cannibalism. But right now, I don’t think anyone really knows what the fuck’s happenin’. We can always tap into the news networks here if you want an update.”

A chill ran through Jack at Champ’s words, remembering how you’d told him about the incident at your parent’s house. He shook his head. He’d seen enough back in town, he didn’t need to see any more until he’d waited long enough for some more information to get passed down. Champ nodded in understanding, then followed behind as Jack left the comm area just in time for the main gate to pull closed again, right behind Ginger, Tequila, and a small group of other agents. Jack breathed a sigh of relief, recognizing them as a couple more techs and medics. At least they’d be covered on that front. 

While Champ made his way to them, Jack split from him and made his way back to his room. As he got ready to open the door, however, he heard your voice on the other side.

“It… it seems so silly, wasting space to bring it,” you said in a small voice. You must have been talking to Maria, she had a way of getting people to talk about things like this. “But I… I couldn’t leave it. I needed… I needed to bring _something_. Something from home.”

“I completely understand, dear,” Maria said, her voice muffled through the door just as yours had been, “it’s important to have somethin’ to remember yourself by.”

Jack turned the doorknob, knocking as he opened the door slowly. He saw you and Maria seated on the bed, one of her hands petting your hair gently. Your suitcase sat open next to you, and in your hands you held a small stuffed cat. At one time it had probably been orange, but it had long since faded to a peach color. You looked up at him with a misty smile, and Maria patted your shoulder before standing up.

“I should go finish unpackin’.” she said lightly, “why don’t you try to get some sleep? Both of ya.”

With that, she gave Jack a look before moving out the door and pulling it shut behind him. Jack moved to the bed, taking her previous place beside you and putting an arm around your waist as he gestured to the cat.

“Now who’s this little fella?” he asked in a light tone.

“It’s uh…” you started, an embarrassed tint to your voice, “it was a gift. From my grandparents. They got it for me years ago, when I was little. Like I was telling Maria, it seems so silly now for me to have brought it. Even though it’s small, that’s still space I could have used for something else.”

“Nah,” Jack said, tucking you further into his side, “I think it was a good idea to bring it. It’ll help, havin’ somethin’ to remind yourself of better times. Now, I think we should take Maria’s advice and get you some rest.”

He stood up, stepping over to zip your bag back up and set it on the floor before helping you off the bed so he could pull the sheets back and help you into bed. You turned on your side to face the wall, and he stepped back to turn the light off, plunging the area in to pitch darkness before coming back to crawl into bed behind you. Jack wrapped an arm around your middle, pulling your back to his chest, curling around you as if to shield you from the world. Shifting the arm around your waist, he placed it on your arm and rubbed gentle circles into the skin with his thumb. After a few moments in the silence, you rolled over in his arms, burying your face in his chest. Your breathing was labored, and Jack knew you were trying desperately to keep yourself together.

“Hey,” he said softly into the dark, “you can let go, baby. I’m right here. You can fall apart, it’s okay. I’ll help put ya back together.”

And fall apart you did. Jack’s grip on you tightened as he felt you start to shake, and he felt the tell-tale warmth of tears seep through his shirt. You sobbed into him, and Jack held you as you did, taking in all your grief and fear and anxiety as you poured it out to him. He ran a hand over your hair, pressing light kisses to your crown every so often. Jack lost track of time, too focused on making sure his full attention was on you. His own experiences with trauma told him that this was only the beginning, and that it would get much worse before it got better. He wanted to make absolutely sure that you knew he’d be there for all of it. After a while, your sobs quieted into hushed hiccups, your shaky breathing interrupted every so often by them. 

“I’m here,” he whispered, nudging your head back slightly with his nose so he could press several kisses to your forehead, “I’ve got you. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. I promise. We’ll make it through this.”

He felt you nod against him, and once all was quiet again, he felt you pull back and bring him in for a kiss. He put a hand on the back of your head, focusing only on you as he tasted the salt of your tears on your lips. When you pulled back, you laid your forehead on his as you placed a gentle hand on his cheek. 

He continued to hold you close in the darkness, the two of you silently mourning a world and a life that no longer was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-explicit sexual themes in this one!

Jack had no idea how long the two of you slept in the pitch-black concrete room. All he knew was that when he woke up, there was a split second of confusion where he forgot what had happened to the two of you. Where he thought he was still in his own bed, just with an unexpected but still very pleasant addition. Then the dream collapsed in on him. He remembered the fact that he was in an underground bunker, clinging to the last connection he still had to his old life – you. He remembered the horrors the two of you had witnessed the last time he was awake. Jack was still in the middle of reconciling his memories when he felt you stir against him, unintelligible mumbles falling from your lips. Your breathing came in more staggered bursts, as if you were running from something. Jack immediately knew the signs, and quickly pulled out his phone to turn on the flashlight and aim it at the ceiling, dispersing some dim light so he could see you in the dark.

He tried to wake you gently, as he knew you’d most likely wake up swinging, or at least thrashing around. He tried talking to you in a soft voice, telling you that what you were experiencing was just a nightmare, that it wasn’t real, that all you had to do was wake up. You started shifting then, quick twitchy movements accompanied by you shaking your head. Jack spoke a little louder then, still hoping you’d subconsciously hear him and wake up on your own without him having to intervene further. You wore a pained expression on your face, and your mumbles got slightly more enunciated.

“No,” you said, “no. Don’t leave. Please. Don’t leave.”

Jack’s heart fell into his stomach, immediately having an idea of what you were dreaming about. He prayed he was wrong. Unable to sit and watch you suffer any longer, he reached a hand out to your shoulder, lightly shaking you and calling your name. He repeated this a few times, and eventually your eyes flew open as you gasped for air. You immediately shot up into a sitting position, clearly disoriented and forgetting where you were, judging by the pure terror evident on your features.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jack said, grabbing your shoulders to try and turn you to look at him in the dim light, “it’s okay, it’s okay. It’s me. It’s Jack. I’m here, you’re safe.”

You stopped struggling against his grip, staring at him for a moment while you began to register where you were again. Jack pulled you into an embrace, thumbing away a stray tear that had fallen. He continued this action as more tears fell.

“You left me,” you choked out finally, “I went to pack, then when I came back outside you were gone. I… I tried to barricade myself inside, but those… those people from town found me, and-”

“Okay, okay,” he hushed, “it was just a dream, baby. You’re safe here. I’m not leavin’ you.”

You nodded against his shoulder, gripping onto him as your breathing slowed again. Jack only vaguely remembered his own dream, only got flashbulb pictures from it. He remembered seeing fire. Seeing bodies. He remembered people hunting. But he hadn’t dreamed anything coherent, not like you had. Jack continued to hold you, gently rocking the two of you as he pressed intermittent kisses to your temple.

“How long were we out?” you asked quietly.

Jack reached over for his phone, and found that it was only 9am by then. So the two of you had only managed to get a couple hours of shut-eye, but it was enough to keep you going for now.

Neither of you made any move to get up from your position, however, and as Jack gently held you, he let himself get lost for a moment. He thought about how you’d said you trusted him when you’d come to him that morning. How you’d said it in such a way that made his heart stutter and his chest ache. He thought about the couple of times you’d asked him to come to your place to repair some things for you and you’d repaid him with a home-cooked meal. He thought about how you’d always get a shy look on your face whenever he’d call you pet names. He remembered how cute he’d thought that look was, and how he’d made it a mission to see it more often.

Jack stopped just short of thinking about how he loved you.

Deep down, he knew he did. He just wasn’t willing to admit it. Not yet, anyway. Once things settled and both of you integrated into life at the base, he would.

He didn’t have any more time to ponder on his own feelings, however, because he was wrenched back to the present by the feeling of your lips on his and your hands on his jawline. He mirrored you, gently cradling your face to him as he kissed you. You shifted your own hands to guide them around his neck, and he moved his own around your waist. The position as the two of you sat together on the bed was slightly uncomfortable, your bodies twisting towards each other, but Jack found it easy to ignore. A not-insignificant part of him wanted to lay you down then, shower you with every ounce of affection and worship he could find within himself. Wanted to run his hands along your body, whispering hushed praises and soft words to you in the dark. He wanted to make you forget everything that had happened in the past 24 hours.

But alas, Jack Daniels rarely got what he wanted. And he was perfectly content to continue kissing you, letting his face grow warm as the two of you tasted the other on your tongues. You pulled away from him after several beats, giving him one last chaste kiss as you pressed your forehead to his. He couldn’t see you in the blinding dark, but when he brought a hand up to caress your cheek, he felt you lean into his touch.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you like that, Jack,” you said. Jack could hear the smile in your voice, and was unable to stop himself from smiling in return.

“Oh, I can imagine,” he said, “Cause it’s probably been about as long as I’ve wanted to kiss you, sugar.”

The two of you laughed together, a quiet sound shared between the two of you. The sound of two people who were finally together, albeit at the cost of the rest of the world. It was the sound of two people who had found each other in the dark.

“We should get up,” you said finally, running a hand along Jack’s cheek, “at least see if anyone else has come in.”

“Yeah, we should,” he agreed, giving you one last kiss before getting out of bed and turning on the light. He blinked a few times to adjust his eyes, and found you doing the same. As you stood up and walked up to him, he was struck by a sudden realization of how beautiful you were to him. You wore a slight smile that finally reached your tired eyes, and Jack had never seen a better sight. Unable to help himself, he brought you in for another slow kiss.

“Can’t keep your hands off me, huh, cowboy?” you teased.

“No I cannot, sugar, and I will _not_ apologize for it.”

“And I’d never ask you to,” you laughed.

The two of you made your way back into the main area, and Jack was pleased to find some new arrivals milling around. It was mostly agents, though a few civilians were among them, no doubt some relation to them. Maria was there, speaking to some of the new faces, and when she spotted you, she motioned for you to join her. You looked up at Jack, giving him a smile before walking in her direction. Jack made his own way to the communications hub first, just to check and see if there had been any news since he’d been out. A small gathering of techs were inside, along with Champ, and he could see one of the New York agents on the screen. He breathed a sigh of relief. At least they’d managed to contact _someone_.

“Reliable information is difficult to come by,” said the agent as he walked in. Jack vaguely recognized him as Agent Rum, a medic in the New York office. He looked like he’d been through hell. His close-cropped brown hair was smeared with blood, as was his face. He was wearing his civilian clothes, and Jack wondered how in the hell he’d managed to make it out of New York in one piece.

“Most of what we know now has been filtered through politicians and military personnel. All they’re really saying right now is that there’s some kind of fast-acting virus that’s spreading globally. The virus primarily targets the frontal lobe of the brain. Deteriorates it somehow. We know it’s transferred through bodily fluids like saliva or blood, but it’s unclear as to how those effected can withstand such severe blunt force trauma to any area of their body except their head.”

Champ nodded his head, a pensive look on his face.

“Any other agents or civilians manage to make it there with you?” he asked.

“A couple other agents and their families so far,” Agent Rum replied, “But not many. We got word from Agent Tonic’s family that he’d managed to give them the information to get into the base before he…”

_Before he died._

Jack had known Agent Tonic. Had trained with him in preparation to enter Statesman, even. A gruff, no-nonsense southern boy, not too different from Champ. The room went quiet, a chill ushering through them. Of course, they’d all known that they’d lose agents. It was a given. But this was the first confirmed death. It was one they’d remember.

“Any word from any of the other bases?” Jack ventured.

“A couple,” Agent Rum confirmed, “We made contact with the bunker outside of Atlanta. A few agents found their way there, but the city itself is all but destroyed according to them. Hoards of people roaming the streets, attacking anyone who gets too close. We also managed to reach the base near LA, but Agent Sangria is the only one there right now. Said he heard on the news about what was happening and went there to play it safe. He didn’t pass close to the city, so he doesn’t know if whatever this is has spread that far just yet.”

“It’s still early there,” Champ said with a nod, “so it might be a while before we hear more. We managed to get ahold of the Dallas base, seems like they’ve got the biggest crowd right now, though it’s still only about a few dozen people.”

Agent Rum looked as though he was about to say something else, but his attention was suddenly drawn to something off-screen.

“That’s the entry door. Looks like more people are on their way. I should go,” he said.

“We’ll be in touch,” Champ nodded just before Rum cut the feed.

Champ walked out of the room, Jack following him closely.

“So what’d I miss?” he asked.

“Not much,” Champ said, walking towards the end of the bunker opposite of the living quarters, “Military’s set up a lot of roadblocks, but those typically don’t last long, especially near the bigger cities. They’re trying to set up full camps in the more rural areas for people to go to, but it’s slow going. Dallas has completely gone up in flames, as has Houston. New York ain’t much better. Worldwide reports are sketchy, but it seems to have originated somewhere in Russia and made its way around the globe in a matter of a few days.”

“Do we even know what to look for?” Jack asked. Agent Rum had said something about it being a virus, and though Jack didn’t know much about the more advanced areas of medicine, he was reasonably sure that viruses usually came with symptoms.

“Muscle aches, for starters,” Champ said, “concentrated migraines soon after. Then it goes downhill real fuckin’ fast apparently. People start seein’ shit. Hearin’ things that aren’t real. At some point they just start attacking people. Ripping them apart. But we don’t really know what happens in between the symptoms and the violence.”

Jack nodded, and Champ stopped at a metal door, focusing on the keypad next to it. He punched in a code, then opened the door and motioned for Jack to follow. When Champ turned on the lights, Jack realized that he was standing in the weapons storage. He’d been in the weapon area at Statesman HQ plenty of times, but he’d never seen anything close to this. Stockpiles of ammunition, any type of firearm anyone could ask for, and even more heavy-duty weapons like grenade launchers were all within reach. Jack even spotted some of the more unconventional weapons, like a store of extra lassos and whips. He had no doubt that the innumerable boxes contained all the deadly tech the Statesman had to offer as well.

“Pick yer chin up off the floor, son,” Champ teased as he made his way over to a pallet of boxes.

Jack shook his head a few times, quickly catching up to Champ as he began to open one of the containers. Sure enough, inside were the smaller Statesman weapons, mostly those that could be hidden on one’s person. Champ began to rifle through them, as if taking stock of what the box’s contents were.

“There oughtta be a few boxes of backpacks in here somewhere,” he said, “We’ll need to sort these out into ‘em and make sure everyone has one just in case.”

“In case of what?” Jack asked, “I thought this place was foolproof?”

“This place was designed to be a shelter from a nuclear strike, not hordes of cannibals, Jack,” Champ quipped, “and we don’t know just how smart those things are yet. Who knows, they could very well follow survivors here, and even though that door’s iron, the latch and hinges can only withstand so much if hundreds of people go beatin’ on ‘em. You know the drill. Hope for the best-”

“Prepare for the worst,” Jack finished. 

Jack aided Champ in filtering through some of the boxes until they came to the store of packs. They separated them from the weapons cache, and set them aside so people could come in later and start dividing up the supplies into the individual bags. Of course, room would have to be left for food and basic medical supplies, but weapons would likely prove harder to find on the outside, so they’d get packed first. While they were working, a younger agent that Jack recognized as Agent Merlot barged in, panting as if he’d run all the way there.

“Sir,” he said, addressing both of them at once, “You need to come back to the hub. There’s something y’all need to see.”

Jack and Champ shared a look before following Merlot back to the communications area. Inside, they found the same small group they’d left there before staring at the screens in horror.

“What in the sam hell is going on-” Jack started before he, too, was stunned into silence.

Several screens showcased several different stations showing drone footage of various cities, not all of them in the States. Cities burning, the streets filled with masses of people winding and sprinting through the abandoned vehicles in unnatural ways. Jack didn’t have to look closer to know they’d been infected. Other screens were broadcasting lists of precautions, like “barricade yourself indoors if at all possible”, “do not interact with anyone displaying symptoms”, and the one that chilled Jack to the bone, “if someone in your vicinity dies from virus complications, immediately dispatch them via severe head trauma. DO NOT WAIT FOR VICTIMS TO REANIMATE”.

The room was silent. Between the carnage on half the screens and the implication that the dead needed to be “dispatched” before they… _reanimated_ , everyone suddenly realized what was really going on. No one spoke, as if by refusing to say the truth, it would make it less real. But Champ had no such reservations, instead plunging headlong into reality.

“Well, gentlemen,” Champ sighed finally, drawing everyone’s attention to him, “it looks like we just found out what happens to people between the hallucinations and the cannibalism.”

More silence.

“They’re dying.”

The gravitas of the situation was deafening. No one moved. Most of them had assumed that the delirium and violent tendencies were a late-stage symptom of the disease. None of them had actually considered that real-life, honest-to-god _zombies_ were rising. Even the Statesman themselves had finally been caught off-guard.

Over the next few days, Jack tried to break the new information to you gently, telling you to avoid telling the other civilians if you could. They’d all be told eventually, but Champ had wanted to control the spread of the information as much as he could so as not to cause a mass panic. Besides, they were all safe in the bunker, so there was no need to tell everyone at once. You’d taken the news surprisingly well, though Jack noticed your nightmares had become slightly more pronounced since he’d told you. He would catch you mumbling in your sleep for him to not leave you behind, before waking in a cold sweat and out of breath. Sometimes he would share your nightmare of the night he almost alerted another survivor to your presence in the Bronco before they were swallowed up by an angry horde. In that particular dream, Jack managed to get the person’s attention, as well as the attention of every hungry corpse on the street. You took those dreams a little more harshly, but Jack couldn’t deny that they hit him hard, too. He also suffered from intermittent flashbacks, as did you. He could never pinpoint a trigger for them, but every once in a while a certain smell or sound would send the two of you careening back to that night. Every time, whoever had the flashback would practically sprint to the other, unable to stop the soul-wrenching need to make sure they were safe. He found that several other survivors displayed the same behavior, and he knew that you and he were among dozens afflicted with the same trauma.

The packs of weapons, ammunition, and other essential supplies had been distributed among everyone at the base, one pack for each person. The agents had collectively decided this to be the best course of action, even if most of the civilians had never seen Statesman weapons, simply due to the worst-case scenario of a possible separation between the two groups. Agents took time to educate civilians on how to use each concealed weapon, and spent time discussing when and how to utilize the larger ones. Jack suggested the two of you pack your valuables into the backpacks as well, as they would be easier to carry than suitcases in case of an emergency. Jack noticed that if you weren’t holding it, your worn little cat plush was always in the front pocket of your bag.

The days wore on, and the two of you fell into an almost normal routine after about a month in the bunker. Jack continued to be Champ’s second-in-command, making sure logistics were taken care of and everyone stayed fed and healthy. You became rather close with some of the other civilians, Maria in particular. Jack often found the two of you talking, mostly about life before The End. She seemed to take a shine to you as well, teaching you new skills that would come in handy later, such as sewing, cooking with limited ingredients, and strategic thinking. She always maintained that the last bit was something she’d just picked up from Champ after their years of marriage, but Jack had a feeling that most of the Statesman’s more strategic victories had in fact come from her.

You were walking with Jack back to your shared room one late afternoon, discussing your respective days, when you stopped him close to the mouth of the entrance tunnel with a hand to his chest.

“Shh,” you said, “do you hear something?”

He stopped, training his ear to see if any sound stood out. At first, he heard nothing, but when you broke from him and started walking up the tunnel, he followed. The closer the two of you got to the gate, the more he heard it. It was a subtle sound, and quite frankly Jack was impressed that you’d picked up on it.

_Thump… thump… thump._

It continued like that, a slow, rhythmic thudding on the other side of the door.

“Is someone… knocking?” You ventured slowly, your tone unsure.

“I… I don’t think so,” Jack said, “it sounds too even. It’s like something’s just… hittin’ the door over and over. Sure don’t sound like knockin’ to me.”

_Thump… thump… thump._

The longer Jack listened to it, the more anxious he got. It wasn’t a natural sound by any stretch of the imagination, and you turned to him with a concerned look that surely matched his own.

“Do the generators in here power any cameras outside?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. It was a good question, and one Jack hadn’t thought to ask. However, he figured that the techs would probably know, and he could always track down Champ if they didn’t. He gently grabbed your arm, leading you away from the door where the rhythmic thumping was still sounding from. Jack walked with you through the entry area and to the hub on the other side, bringing you with him into the room. The few agents there monitoring the screens and searching for information stopped, addressing him as he entered.

“Do any of y’all know if there are cameras on the other side of the main gate?” he asked. One of the techs, Agent Soda, confirmed that there were a few, one specifically trained on the gate itself. He then went on to mention that the electricity from the internal generators would likely be wired to it, allowing it to still function.

“Well, go on then,” Jack motioned, “turn ‘er on.”

Soda tapped a few buttons on the console, and one of the many screens in front flickered to a black and white image. On the screen was an image of the gate, and a single person on the other side, apparently rhythmically thumping their body against it, as if banging their head gently on the metal. The entire room stilled, focusing on the image. The movements were so methodical that the video seemed to be in a perfect loop.

“That’s…” one of the other techs said in a shaky tone, “that’s… not a survivor, is it?”

You heard Jack swallow hard before he replied.

“No, I don’t reckon it is,” he said, “but it doesn’t seem to be a Runner either. I’m gonna go talk to Champ. See what we can do.”

With that, he walked out of the room, you following close behind. In the days since your arrival, Jack had tried to bring you as up to speed as he could regarding the Statesman and what exactly they did. He didn’t want to hide from you, especially now that there was no conceivable reason to. It was hard for the politics of something to look bad when politics didn’t exist anymore. The two of you walked silently across the main area, heading to the living spaces. You stayed close to Jack, and he subconsciously reached for you, grabbing your hand as if to keep you tethered to him. The closer the two of you got to the entry tunnel, the more you could hear the dull thudding on the other side. Jack prayed no one else heard it and tried to open the door thinking a survivor was knocking.

Both of you stopped at the door to Champ and Maria’s living space, knocking quickly. After a second of shuffling, Champ opened the door.

“Somethin’ the matter, Jack?” he asked.

“Yeah, there is,” Jack replied, trying to keep his voice hushed, “according to the cameras outside the gate, there’s a Dragger thumpin’ up against the gate tryin’ to get in.”

Champ blanched before ushering you and Jack into the room, closing the door behind the two of you. Jack immediately noticed that Maria wasn’t present, which he was oddly relieved about.

“Any idea on how it got down here?” Champ asked, “I figured we’d be locked tight since the power grid gave out three weeks ago.

“We haven’t discussed that part yet,” Jack replied, “but best I can figure, without the electricity, the security locks on the stairs might have busted. They’ve got lever handles, so it’s not outta the realm of possibility that one of ‘em could have knocked it open and stumbled on down here.”

“Makes sense I suppose,” Champ sighed, “we should probably dispatch it though. Last thing we need is the sound attractin’ more of ‘em, or some lone survivor stumblin’ onto ‘em tryin’ to get here.”

Jack nodded. Champ opened his door, and you and Jack followed him out into the hall. As soon as you reached the door to the room you shared with Jack, he turned to you, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead.

“You stay here, sugar,” Jack said, “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

“Actually, Jack,” you asked, looking at him and Champ at the same time, “Could… could I help you with this? If… if something happens, I want to be able to get rid of them on my own. Just in case.”

Jack’s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t expected you to want to come along for this. After all, the two of you hadn’t seen one of the dead this close since The End.

“Are you sure, darlin’?” Jack asked apprehensively. You’d been doing a lot better processing your previous trauma in the past few weeks, and Jack was hesitant to pile more onto you. Not to mention the outside camera’s field of vision was more limited than he would have liked, and he hated the idea of putting you in any kind of danger like this.

“I’m sure,” you said, “I want to be able to help.”

Jack turned to look at Champ, hoping that the older agent would jump in and shut down your idea, but the way he just raised his eyebrows and gave Jack a look that said _the young lady’s got a point_ , Jack knew he was outvoted. He sighed and motioned for you to follow him and Champ back to the gate. When the three of you arrived, Jack handed you one of his pistols.

“Alright, here’s how this is gonna go,” he instructed, “Champ’s gonna open the gate just enough for us to get out, then it’ll close again. As soon as you can, lock yourself on target, and fire at its head. Do you remember what I taught you about usin’ this?”

Jack was referring to the few lessons he’d given you on how to use his pistols. He hadn’t been able to allow you to do any actual target practice due to needing to conserve ammo, but he’d gone over the basics as well as he could without having you actually shoot the gun. Most Statesman-issued handheld firearms operated the same way, so he was confident that if you could handle one, you could handle the other models. You nodded, clicking off the safety and making sure a bullet was in the chamber before pointing it to the ground.

“Good,” Jack said, “Now, both me an’ Champ will have our own weapons, so if you miss, we’ll take care of it. Just try not to panic. We’ll be right behind you.”

“Won’t gunfire attract attention?” you asked.

“Not anymore,” Champ interjected, “since we got here, I’ve had the techs work on complete silencers for all of our firearms. No one will hear a thing, in here _or_ out there.”

You nodded, and after you took a deep breath, you gave Jack a look that said you were ready. Champ quickly tapped the keypad next to the gate, and when it began to swing open, he punched in the code again to make sure it closed as soon as the three of you were outside. The Dragger on the other side immediately turned its attention to the opening door, and began its slow shuffle towards your little group. You raised your pistol, and Jack noticed the slight tremor in it despite you using two hands to keep it stable. Jack held his own pistol, not wanting to lift it just yet to give you more time to fire. You eventually did, though the bullet strayed far right. You reloaded and tried again, this time pitching the bullet too high. You fired once more, this time hitting the Dragger in the chest, but it wasn’t enough to properly dispatch it. By this point, it was almost to you, and you gave Jack a look of frustration that signaled that he could finish it. He lifted his own pistol and fired once, a clean shot between the Dragger’s eyes. It fell instantly, landing on the concrete with a dull thud.

The three of you stood silent for several moments. Jack saw you tick your jaw, a look of anger bare on your face. He could tell you were disappointed in yourself, frustrated that you had needed his help. Jack placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to convey without words that it was alright, that you needn’t be upset with yourself for needing him. That you’d done well. Your eyes closed in response, and you silently handed him his pistol back. He took it from you gingerly as Champ reopened the gate to let you back through. You had led the way back, breaking from Jack and Champ and walking quickly back to your room. Jack let you go while he discussed a few details of what had just happened with Champ, giving you time to cool down and process your adrenaline. He returned to the room to find you sitting on the bed, your head in your hands.

“You gave me the easiest target you could give me, and I blew it,” you mumbled.

“No, you didn’t,” Jack said firmly, kneeling in front of you, “you got a hit in. I’d say that’s pretty decent for someone who’s never actually fired a gun before.”

“Didn’t kill it though,” you said, looking at him, “if you hadn’t been there, I’d be dead.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing I’m always gonna be there, ain’t it?” he teased, earning a smile from you, “You’ll get better over time. Though I pray to whoever’s still listenin’ that you don’t have to.”

You smiled warily at him, silently telling him that you didn’t want to speak on the issue anymore. He knew you’d process the events yourself, but he still wanted you to know that he would be there if you needed him. He gently put a hand on the back of your neck, leaning your head towards him so he could press his forehead to yours. He neglected to tell you just how often he prayed that you’d never have to be without him, nor he without you.

There were days of peace where you and Jack would talk about what you missed most of the outside world. You spoke frequently of the sky, of seeing the changing weather and the stars at night. He mirrored your sentiment, though he also usually mentioned how much he missed his Bronco. The artificial light in the bunker was nothing compared to good old-fashioned sunlight, and that was a hill he’d gladly die on. You both missed the fresh air, the different smells that came from a fresh rain or changing season. You missed sunsets.

A few weeks after your last encounter outside the gate, you and Jack were sitting together in your quarters, quietly discussing what the two of you thought would come next while you were tucked into his side. You held your cat plush as you talked about how you thought life outside would evolve, and if the two of you would ever see the outside of the base again. Jack was sure you would. He was sure the world would heal and that the survivors would start again. The two of you went quiet, and Jack let his mind wander. He thought about finding a nice safe zone to settle down with you. He thought about giving you a home larger than the small concrete room the two of you had been confined to for the past few months. He wondered if you’d agree to marry him someday, if you’d let him work to keep you safe until the two of you passed away when you were both old and grey. Jack smiled at the thought of witnessing the rebirth of the planet with you by his side. Unable to help himself, he tilted your chin to face him so he could kiss you.

The smile you gave him in return could have put the sun itself to shame as far as he was concerned.

You continued to join Jack for most of his administrative duties, telling him you “wanted to be able to help him lead”. He wasn’t one to deny your wishes, so you trailed along behind him most of the time, quietly observing what it took to manage the base and group of survivors. Any time you weren’t with him, you were likely with Maria, or with Ginger discussing any advancements she and the other techs and medics had made in finding out what the virus was and maybe how to stop it. Jack was grateful that you seemed to be adjusting to life in the bunker well, though it still slightly pained him to see your wings clipped by the circumstances.

The nights the two of you spent together in the pitch black of your quarters slowly began to quiet, as yours and his nightmares started to become fewer and further in between. Instead, lulls in your sleep patterns found him kissing you until his lips went numb, holding you to him as if he were afraid to let you go. Sometimes you would gently shift to touch him, taking him in hand while he continued to taste into your mouth. He would always do the same to you, sliding his hands down to stroke at you and circle around where you needed him most. He would swallow your whines and other small sounds, basking in the sound of you quietly breathing his name against his lips. The two of you would exchange hushed words of praise until you hit your respective peaks, then Jack would quietly clean the two of you before you both returned to sleep. You never moved to do anything more, and Jack didn’t push the issue. He was more than content with what you had already given him, and he could never ask for anything more. The only thing he still wished for was that he find a way to at least let a very dim light into the room, just so he could see your face during these moments.

One such night after the two of you had calmed and the heat had dissipated from the room, Jack felt you cradle his face in your hands as he faced you in bed.

“There’s so much I wanna say,” you whispered, “but I… I think I’m too scared to.”

“It’s okay, baby,” Jack murmured, rubbing circles onto your side, “there’s a lot I think I’m scared to say, too. But we’ve got time. No need to rush.”

You didn’t say anything in response, instead opting to pull him into another slow kiss before the two of you fell asleep wrapped up in each other.

The next afternoon found the two of you sitting in bed, you reading while Jack was leaned back onto the pillows with closed eyes. There were no immediate chores to be done this day, no impending meetings between the Statesman bunkers. Just a day for the two of you to enjoy each others company in relative privacy. Jack was fairly certain that he’d fall asleep soon, lulled by your steady breathing next to him interspersed with the sound of turning pages. He figured that he’d wake up to you in his arms, dozing quietly beside him. He may not have gotten to enjoy the sight of gentle sunlight streaming in through his windows to dance across your skin, or the sound of rain against the roof as you ran your fingers through his hair, but he certainly couldn’t complain about his current situation.

The two of you were startled by a sudden, urgent pounding on your door. Jack rushed to open it with you behind him, finding Agent Tequila standing on the other side, panting with a look of terror on his face.

“We gotta go,” he said, “a horde found their way in. Tryin’ to bust down the gate. Can’t hold ‘em out. Champ’s ordered an evac.”

Jack’s heart plummeted, and all color drained from his face.

“How many?” he asked.

“We don’t know,” Tequila panted, “but there’s gotta be thousands of ‘em, just packed into the room tryin’ to get in. They’re crushin’ each other against the door. It’s not gonna hold against all of ‘em.”

Jack nodded, and Tequila continued sprinting down the corridor, alerting everyone of the impending evacuation. Jack and you shared a look before going back inside to don your emergency packs.

The two of you had discussed escape options before, as had everyone else in the bunker. There was a small exit tunnel around the back of the facility, one that let out into a barren stretch of area. The entire group would evacuate there, staying as close together as possible until new shelter could be found. Champ had even gone so far as to inform everyone of nearby safe zone setups, though there hadn’t been any way to contact anyone outside of other Statesman bases for a few weeks. The general plan was for everyone to make their way to the bunker just outside of Chicago, as it was the closest one and it would be better guarded than open safe areas.

Jack had never thought his world could come crashing down so quickly. It had dissolved even quicker than it had at The End, and part of his brain refused to even admit it was happening. The bunker was supposed to be safe. Safer than anywhere else in the goddamned world. And here the two of you were, throwing your packs over your shoulders and rushing out of your quarters, leaving everything behind.

Again.

You kept up with Jack easily, the two of you nearly sprinting along with the rest of the evacuating group. Once you got to the staging area, he could hear the violent banging on the iron gate ringing through the entire base. If he strained his ears, he could almost hear the screams and screeches of the mountain of hungry corpses outside.

He stopped and turned, looking at the gathering group of agents who were at the mouth of the entrance tunnel. Most of them already had their weapons drawn, others were quickly getting them prepared. Jack had no doubt of what the agents were doing; most of them had families here with them. They were preparing to make a stand for them, to give them enough time to get to safety. He could hear Champ shouting orders over the fervor, telling them that the latch of the door would give way before the hinges would. That would give them a way to funnel the hungry dead into a more manageable line, and they all needed to be prepared for however many were on the other side. He locked eyes with Champ briefly, and he could read multitudes into the older man’s features. Champ said nothing, and Jack knew Champ was giving him an out, a chance to slip out the escape route with you without the other agents knowing.

It was an out he couldn’t bring himself to take.

“You need to go with them,” he said to you suddenly, gesturing to the moving group, “I need to help hold ‘em off.”

“What? No! I’m not leaving you, Jack! We go together!” you countered.

The iron door creaked under the weight of the bodies on the other side. Jack knew he was quickly running out of time. He knew all too well his chances weren’t great, but if his last act on this burned-out shell of an earth was to sacrifice himself to help keep you safe, it was a choice he wouldn’t hesitate to make. He needed to join the other agents at the gate, needed to buy you time to escape.

He needed you to leave him behind.

“Listen to me,” he said, gripping your face in his hands to make sure you really heard him, “I _need_ to give you and everyone else time to get out. Once y’all are outside and away from here, we’ll fall back and catch up. I’ll find you, understand me? _I. Will. Find. You._ ”

You paused for a moment, staring into his face before crashing your lips to his. The desperate act only lasted a few seconds, precious borrowed time that Jack attempted to use to memorize the feeling of your kiss. You pulled back, and the two of you shared one final look before you turned around and started moving with the evacuating group. Jack prayed that his eyes had told you everything his mouth couldn’t.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning in this one for discussions of suicide

Jack’s heart snapped as he watched you run with the rest of the civilians, disappearing along with the rest of the group as you moved toward the rear of the base and the emergency exit. He had promised you so many times that he’d never leave you, and here he was, forcing _you_ to leave _him_. He didn’t get much time to wallow in his own grief, however, as the tell-tale sound of metal buckling reached his ears.

“Get ready, boys!” Champ roared, “They’re comin’ in hot!”

Jack rushed towards the group, arriving just in time for the first Runners to breach the gate. He immediately drew his six-shooters, firing along with the rest of the agents into the growing mass of zombies. Thanks to the number of agents, Jack felt optimistic about their odds at first; the group seemed to be well-controlled, funneled into the small opening the gate had made when it gave way. But as more bodies pushed onto it from the other side, the gap grew, letting in more and more ravenous corpses at once. Jack could also see the pile of already dispatched dead at the base of the gate, indicating that they’d been crushed and trampled as more infected had packed their way into the room on the other side.

Luckily the pile of fully dead hindered some of the not-quite-dead, but Jack could tell that he and the other agents were quickly getting overwhelmed. Jack continued to fire his six shooters at the advancing horde, taking out dozens before his ammo ran out. He immediately switched to his lasso, turning it electric before moving to the front of the defense group so as not to accidentally snag any of his fellow agents inside his loop.

He grabbed swathes of them at a time, always making sure to land his lasso around their necks or in the middle of their heads. Still, he couldn’t even hope to catch them all at once, and the handfuls that escaped him inevitably ran past him towards the others. He yanked a pocketknife from his waistband, pulling his electric loop through another round of Runners while turning to drive the knife through the forehead of a stray one he’d missed.

Around this time Jack realized that his lasso wasn’t going to finish things either, and he retracted it back before immediately drawing his whip and activating the electricity in it. He swiped broad strokes though the advancing horde, noting how it seemed to never end. He heard screaming from behind him that sounded sickeningly human rather than corpse, but couldn’t afford to waste precious time turning to see the source.

“Fall back!” Came Champ’s yell over the mass. Jack did as he was told, backing up while he continued to swing his whip. The group of agents retreated to the mouth of the entrance tunnel, and Jack found that there were several bodies of other agents scattered along the way who had been overcome.

Once the group reached the open staging area, Champ and a couple other agents sprinted up with what looked to be grenade launchers. However, instead of aiming at the oncoming Runners, they aimed at the ceiling of the tunnel, firing the explosives into it. Just as the deafening explosion hit and the ceiling began to collapse, sealing off the tunnel, Jack returned his whip to its place on his belt.

Suddenly, out of the debris and smoke came one last Runner, sprinting directly at Jack. He had no time to react before the creature tackled him to the ground, snapping its jaws. Jack shoved against its weight, attempting to push it far enough away for him to reach his pocketknife. But before he could do so, the corpse’s head snapped to the left, and it slumped into Jack’s hold. He immediately pushed it off of him, looking up to find Tequila’s rifle pointed in his direction.

“Come on, old man,” Tequila quipped, extending a hand to Jack to help him up.

“Thanks, Tequila,” Jack said as he stood, slightly shaken from the close call.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Tequila said, waving him off, “can’t get you back to your girl if you’re zombie food.”

Jack huffed out a quick laugh before nodding his head.

“Alright agents,” came Champ’s authoritative voice, “that ain’t gonna hold ‘em forever. Hope y’all got your stuff packed and with ya, cause we got people to catch up to.”

Jack nodded along with the rest of the agents, then noticed something peculiar. A decent chunk of them seemed to have multiple packs with them, instead of just their own.

It wasn’t until he realized that none of the bodies of the agents in the tunnels had packs with them that he connected the dots. Other agents must have grabbed their gear before retreating. Jack shuddered to think about having to inform their families of their fate. His blood ran cold at the thought that he’d come close to needing someone to inform you of his death as well.

The group quickly divvied up the ill-fated agents’ bags among their own, making sure each one’s personal effects were kept together. They may not have had bodies to give the grieving families, but they could at least give them the items.

After the bags were sorted, the group made their own way to the evacuation tunnel. Faint scratching and screeching could still be heard from behind the wall of rubble, and the agents knew it would only be a matter of time before the debris gave in completely. They moved quickly, and Jack found a spark of irrational hope spreading in his chest that maybe the civilian group had stopped to wait for them just outside the exit.

It was a spark that quickly fizzled as soon as Champ and a few other agents pried the gate open, revealing a wide expanse of nothing. The sun was blinding, and as the gate latched shut again behind the group, Jack found himself shielding his eyes and blinking back spots in his vision from the sudden return to natural light. It felt warm on his skin, an odd sensation in contrast to the cold fluorescent lights he’d been under for the past few months.

Jack could feel the disappointment ripple through his fellow agents. He figured that most of them had gotten the same spark of hope that he had, though he knew they shouldn’t be surprised that the group wasn’t here. After all, the entire contingency plan hinged on the first group continuing on foot to the Chicago bunker to wait for the second group to catch up. Jack himself remembered making you memorize his Statesman ID so you could get in once you arrived there.

They found no trace of your group, but they did find an arrow carved into a nearby tree, pointing north. It was undoubtedly fresh, and the group shared a look before silently beginning to walk in the direction that the arrow pointed.

The group was silent, and Jack briefly considered that from an outsider’s perspective, they likely looked like a tiny band of Draggers, shuffling along in the open expanse of field that later faded into a forest of trees. The sun bore down on them, soaking them in heat they hadn’t felt in months. Every once in a while a stray Dragger or Runner would catch sight of them, only to be quickly dispatched with the puff of a silenced gun.

The day dragged on, as did the group. As the sun began to set, lighting the sky in reds and oranges, Jack couldn’t help but hope you were able to see the same sky. The sky began to fade to black, and the group came upon a clearing within the forest, along a small creek of clear water. Champ suggested the group bed down there for the night, taking watch shifts and refilling their water supply before heading out again at first light. The agents nodded quietly, all of them exhausted in every capacity.

Jack sat himself slightly further away from the rest of the group, needing a modicum of privacy so he could take stock of his bag to make sure everything was still in its place and hadn’t been lost in the struggle at the base. As he opened the pack, however, he froze.

Jack’s mind took a minute to register what he was looking at. The clothes, weapons, and personal items in the bag he was holding weren’t his.

They were _yours_.

Jack’s stomach dropped when he realized that the two of you must have grabbed each other’s packs during the evacuation chaos. He wasn’t particularly concerned about most of the contents of the pack, as they were identical to what he had packed aside from the personal items, though he would be missing the extra whip and lasso he’d had. No, what really bothered him, and what made his hands shake as he opened the very front pouch, was that you’d be without the tiny plush cat you’d brought.

The last tether you had to a normal life, to your family. And here he was, holding it gently in his hands as his vision started to blur. He was grateful that he was further away from the other agents, just so they wouldn’t see him break. Silent sobs wracked his body as everything he’d been through in the past 12 hours crashed into him all at once. He mourned for his fellow agents, for what little safety and life he’d managed to find, and for you. Jack Daniels was not often a praying man, but he prayed harder that night than he ever had in his entire life. He prayed you were alive, that you were safe with the rest of the civilians. He prayed that you didn’t hate him for making you leave him behind.

Once his breathing calmed and he came back to himself, he returned the plush to your bag, making sure to secure the pouch as best he could. He may not be able to protect you right now, but he could at least protect a piece of you. Jack laid on the hard packed ground, the pack offering a cushion for his head as he kept his hand over the front pocket.

He didn’t dream that night.

Instead, he slept in fits and spurts, waking up groggy and disoriented several times through the night. When his watch shift came up, he spent most of it on his back, watching what little sky he could see through the tree canopy while keeping his ears trained for any out of place noises. He thought about how many times you’d talked about missing the stars, and realized that there would be so many more of them visible now without light pollution. He prayed again, this time that you were able to see the same stars.

As soon as the first rays of sunlight pierced the dark, his fellow agents roused themselves and began their trek anew. As they moved, they noticed signs of your group along the way. Sometimes it was in the form of more carved arrows, other times it was in the form of a scrap of clothing tied to a tree. There were even occasions when they would happen upon stray bodies of dispatched dead, giving the agents hope that at least the civilian group could handle themselves.

However, in the evening if their second day of travel, his band of agents stumbled upon carnage.

Their first clue that something had gone terribly wrong was the scattering of infected bodies, likely dozens of them. The horde that had caught your group dwarfed in comparison to the one in the bunker, but it had qualified as a horde nonetheless. Jack surveyed the corpses, noting how many of them had chest, arm, or leg wounds in addition to their fatal head wounds. He was reminded of the day you’d tried to dispatch a Dragger in the base but had only managed to hit it in the chest.

There were a few of them, however, that caught his eye. They were in pieces, neatly sliced through the middle or across their torsos. He recognized that cut, and his chest swelled with pride at the realization that you had likely learned to use either his lasso or whip. Jack felt a searing wave of relief rush through him at the second realization that the dismembered dead in front of him meant that you were still alive.

The group broke out into excited murmurs, noting how there were no uninfected bodies among the dispatched horde. A few agents let out triumphant yells, throwing their hats into the air before Champ shushed them again, reminding them that there could be more infected hidden around. The bodies appeared fresh - or as fresh as the infected could be - and the group found itself in the grip of a newfound vigor, sure that their families and friends were close by. Their newfound relief was soon destroyed, however, by the sound of one of the agents who had been off to the side of the group near a denser patch of woods.

“Guys,” the agent called, “y’all need to see this.”

The group stilled, immediately looking over toward the agent. Just in front of him, through a patch of trees, was a set of shallow graves. Fresh mounds of dirt with carved sticks marking them, five in all if Jack counted correctly. One of his fellow agents ventured closer to the sticks marking the graves, and remarked that names had been carved into them.

The group huddled in, desperate to see if any of their people were among those named. Jack let out a massive breath of relief when he noticed that your name was not there. A handful of his fellow agents, however, were not as lucky.

One man fell to his knees, wailing as he recognized one of the names. Another agent kept repeating “ _no_ ” to himself in an increasingly panicked voice. Another still had fallen to the ground, curling himself into the fetal position.

The rest of the agents, Jack included, did their best to comfort the broken men. But what could he say to someone who had suffered their worst nightmare? Who had gone through trauma after trauma only for it to culminate in the ultimate loss?

The first agent to fall began to dig at one of the mounds of dirt furiously, forcing others to grab him and pull him back, telling him that he didn’t want to see. That no matter how much he wanted to hold them again and apologize for leaving them alone, it was better this way. He didn’t need to see. He really didn’t need to see.

The group remained silent, their previously high spirits successfully broken by the find. Jack noticed that a couple of graves had bore names related to a few of the agents that had died in the tunnel, and felt a twisted sense of relief that he wouldn’t have to inform them of what had happened. One suggested that they keep moving, as they still had a couple hours of daylight left, but a handful of others had shut them down, insisting that they camp by the graves for the night. Just to spend one more night with their loved ones before pressing on alone. Jack couldn’t say he disagreed with them.

Jack slept just as fitfully that night as he had the last, only with the newfound nightmare of finding your name on a carved stick marking a mound of dirt. He woke from his light sleep to find that the agent on watch had vanished. At first, Jack thought that he’d simply gotten up to stretch his legs, but after an abnormally long time, Jack decided to get up and check for himself.

He found nothing. No trace of the agent, aside from the pack he had left behind. When Jack noticed that only one pistol was missing from the bag, he figured it would be useless to keep looking for him. He would alert the group in the morning, and maybe they’d have time to sweep the area and find him before they moved on. At least that way they’d be able to give him a proper burial next to his loved one.

Jack took over the agent’s watch, finding himself unable to sleep anyway. He spent the night sat against a tree, gently petting at your stuffed cat.

At first light, Jack informed the rest of the group what had happened, and they spread out to find the missing agent. Sure enough, they found him about a half mile away, clutching a picture of his wife in his hand. He received a swift burial, next to one of the other graves. The group remained silent, then moved on their way.

They spent another day traveling, occasionally spotting more breadcrumbs left by the civilian group. At some point they even came upon an abandoned farmhouse, and managed to forage some canned goods and scant medical supplies. Jack tried not to look at the family pictures on the walls.

Around mid-afternoon, grey clouds began to cover the sun, and mere minutes later the agents were caught in a downpour. Undeterred, they kept moving through the rain, huddling close to try and stave off the newfound cold. Then, in front of the pack, came Champ’s voice.

“Looks like we’ve got a blockade up ahead!” He yelled.

They continued moving closer, and Jack noticed that the makeshift fortress didn’t seem to be military-based. Instead, there were barricades of cars, sheet metal, and 2x4s held stable by sandbags surrounding the few buildings inside. It looked more civilian to him than anything. The closer they got, they noticed a few people standing atop towers in the barrier. Makeshift watchtowers, no doubt.

“Hands up!” A male voice shouted through the rain.

The agents did what they were told, stopping in their tracks and raising their hands to show they weren’t holding any weapons. The guard interrogated them, Champ offering most of the answers in as diplomatic a manner as possible. The guards slowly lowered their weapons, giving each other a look before shouting something in the direction of the gate down below.

The strange metallic hybrid of a gate creaked open, just enough to let the agents in before it closed behind them. Jack felt as though he could breathe properly for the first time in days once it did. The sound was one of at least minor security, and he was slightly relieved that guardkeeping was, for now, someone else’s problem. They were immediately stopped, told to drop their packs, and go through a med check. A group of armed civilians grabbed the discarded bags, then stood just behind the group.

One of the civilians who introduced himself as Samuel led them to a large, Victorian-style home in the center of the small town. They entered, and Jack noticed that it appeared to be the location of whatever leadership the town had left. Samuel spoke briefly with another man in the main room in hushed tones that Jack couldn’t make out, then gestured to the group. The other man looked them over, nodded, and Samuel led them into a room further back in the house. The men who held onto their packs stayed in the main room, presumably to look through them.

“Got a group, boss,” Samuel announced as he led them in. There was a large desk in the room, behind which sat a man around Champ’s age if Jack had to guess. The older man beckoned then inside, after which Samuel stepped back out and closed the door behind him.

The man at the desk introduced himself as Marc, and he spoke with Champ in detail about who they were and why they’d shown up at the town gates. Marc, to his credit, seemed to believe them, though Champ conveniently neglected to tell him about the bunker they’d stayed in.

“We’re just on our way up north,” Champ said, “just needed a place to crash for the night if that’s alright.”

Marc nodded, telling him that they had special lodgings for travelers who wouldn’t stay long.

“Though it may be kinda cramped,” Marc said as an afterthought, “got another group stayin’ there for the past few days. Though they should be headin’ out tomorrow.”

Jack’s ears may as well have perked, and a few of his fellow agents jerked their heads towards Marc and Champ.

“This group wouldn’t happen to be a decent ratio of men, women, and children, would it?” Champ ventured, “comin’ from the same direction we did?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact,” Marc said, though he seemed slightly hesitant to reveal such information, “you… you know ‘em?”

“Our group got separated from ‘em a few days ago,” Jack said, speaking for the first time since that morning, “they’ve been leavin’ us a trail to follow.”

“Well, Sam can lead y’all to the safe house,” Marc said, “as far as I know, they should all be there.”

From there, Jack barely paid attention to anything that was said. His heart pounded in his ears, and all he could hear over the pounding rain was his own breathing. True to what Marc had said, Samuel was waiting outside the room to lead them to the safe house down the street once they’d collected their bags and checked to make sure their contents were still there. They walked through the pouring rain to get to the last house on the left. It wasn’t as elaborate as the leadership home they’d been in, but it still looked large enough to accommodate a fair number of people.

Samuel led him to the front door, and Jack immediately recognized a few of the civilians from the bunker. They all sprang from their positions, rushing at the group to find their agents. Champ found Maria not long after, and Jack was almost moved to tears himself when he saw the old man crying into his wife’s shoulder. A few of the civilians also broke down as the other agents had in the woods, no doubt having been informed of what had become of the ones in the tunnel.

“She’s upstairs,” came Maria’s voice, startling him out of his thoughts, “First door on the right.”

Without thinking, Jack made to sprint up the stairs, but Maria stopped him, still holding onto Champ with her free arm. When he stopped to look at her, she smiled.

“You oughtta be proud of her, Jack,” she said, “I think she picked up on how to use your whip faster than you did.”

Jack’s eyes started to water as he nodded. He couldn’t say he was surprised.

He took the stairs three at a time as he almost ran face-first into the door Maria said belonged to you. He knocked twice, then opened it, not bothering to wait for your answer. When he stepped in, he found you standing there, his lasso in your hands. You let out a breath as you dropped it, and the two do you froze at the sight of each other, your eyes wide with disbelief. Jack could feel the warm tears making tracks down his cheeks, contrasting sharply with the cold rain still soaking his skin as he slowly closed the door behind him to give the two of you some privacy.

You were the first to move after that, walking over to him slowly as if you were afraid he would disappear. Your lip quivered and your breath shook as you gently reached a hand up to his face. You stopped just before touching his cheek, but as soon as he felt your warm fingers on his skin, the trance the two of you had been under was shattered.

Jack held onto you for dear life, sobbing into your shoulder while you did the same. His hands shifted around your body, from your hips to your back to your hair, then back again. You were warm and soft and real and here and Jack briefly worried that he’d wake up beneath a black sky somewhere, on the ground surrounded by his fellow agents in the wilderness. The two of you stood there, leaning on the other and trying desperately to keep yourselves afloat among the emotions that were trying to drown you.

“I’m sorry,” Jack choked out finally, “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t want to leave you alone. I promised you that I’d never leave you and I lied and I’m so _fucking_ _sorry_.”

“No, Jack, no,” you shushed him, petting his hair as he kept his face to your shoulder, “you didn’t leave me. I left you. You made me leave so you could keep everyone safe. I’m not mad, Jack. I’m not mad.”

His tears started fresh, this time tinged in relief that you didn’t hate him. When he’d gotten them out of his system, he pulled back slightly, only to nudge his nose against yours and desperately kiss you. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and his around your middle, molding you to him. He knew being so close to him couldn’t have been pleasant, considering his soaked-through clothes and cold, damp skin, but if you minded, you gave no indication of it.

“I was so scared for you, Jack,” you whispered against his lips when he parted from you, “I was so scared you wouldn’t make it.”

“I told ya I’d find you, didn’t I?” He replied softly. “I may have broken my last promise, but I wasn’t breakin’ this one.”

“Jack, you didn’t break your promise,” you said, smiling at him, “you promised not to leave me. You didn’t leave me. I left you. So your promise is still intact.”

“You have the patience of a saint, baby,” Jack said, kissing you again.

The two of you shared several more slow kisses, getting reacquainted with the feeling of each other’s lips. After many moments, you pulled away from Jack, walking to a small dresser on the other side of the room and pulling a towel out of one of the drawers. Jack reached for it as you returned, but you pulled it out of his reach, offering only a soft “Let me” before you got closer to him. You carefully removed Jack’s Stetson, placing it on your bed. You began to gently dry him off, starting with his hair and face, then removing his jacket and shirt before toweling off his chest. His clothing was draped over a drying rack that was also in the room, and when you got to his waist Jack took over while you grabbed a fresh set of clothes out of your bag.

Or rather, his bag.

As soon as he was in dry clothes, Jack presented you with the bag he’d grabbed with all of your things in it. As he heard the rain continue to pour outside, he realized how grateful he was that the Statesman packs were waterproof.

“Didn’t even realized we grabbed the wrong bags until the agents and I bedded down that night,” Jack admitted as you took your pack from him. You immediately went for the front pocket, pulling your cat plush out of it with fresh tears in your eyes.

“You kept him safe,” you said in a shaky tone, a smile on your face as you sat on your bed.

“‘Course I did,” Jack said, sitting next to you, “I couldn’t protect you, but I could at least protect him. Figured that was the next best thing.”

“Just like I kept your whip and lasso,” you joked, picking his lasso off the floor where you’d dropped it.

“Yeah, and from what I hear you did a damn good job with ‘em. ‘Specially the whip,” Jack remarked, referring to what Maria had said. He noticed a slightly bashful grin on your face, and he barely reigned in his urge to kiss you again.

“Maria helped me learn it on our first night out,” you said, “I didn’t feel as confident with the gun, but I felt like it’d be harder to miss with an electric whip.”

Jack wrapped an arm around your shoulders, bringing you in to press a kiss to your temple as he took his lasso from you. Suddenly the tone in the room shifted though, and you cast your eyes down to the floor.

“They came out of nowhere. A whole horde of runners. We didn’t even hear them until they were on top of us. I tried the gun first. Even managed to get a couple. But… god, Jack, there were so many. People got bit.”

Your lip started to quiver as you recollected what happened. Jack made to stop you, to tell you that you didn’t have to tell him, but you stopped him. He needed to know. Someone needed to know.

“I took out more of ‘em with the whip, but the damage was already done. One of the men, Ethan, he begged me to kill him. One of the Runners has gotten him. He begged me to not let him get sick. Wanted me to shoot him. I…. I couldn’t do it, Jack. _I couldn’t do it_.”

You put a hand over your mouth, finally breaking as Jack held you. He whispered to you that it was okay, that he didn’t blame you for not being able to do what was asked of you. That you should have never been asked to do such a thing to begin with. You went on to tell him about how the rest of the survivors had taken time to bury the victims, and how you’d carved their names to mark them while everyone else slept.

When you’d calmed again, Jack told you he was proud of you. That you’d made it there alive, that you’d probably saved a dozen other lives. Maybe more. He held you as the rain poured and the room grew darker, and at first Jack wondered if the sun was setting up until he heard the unmistakable rumble of thunder overhead.

You leaned into him, the only sounds breaking the silence being the thunder and rain outside. He held you for as long as you would let him, trying desperately to make up for the days you’d been apart from him. Just as he was ready to get up and find a source of light, a knock sounded at your door.

“Food’s ready downstairs if y’all are up to eatin,” came Maria’s soft voice on the other side.

You and Jack shared a look before he stood up, offering you his hand to take. You gently sat your stuffed animal on the bed, letting him lead you to the door. As he opened it, Maria greeted him with a hug, before moving to give you one as well.

“I told you he’d find his way back, dear,” he heard her whisper to you.

The hallway was surprisingly well-lit, and Maria explained to him that the entire town was rigged to generators that were slowly being converted to solar power. He held your hand the entire time as Maria led him to the sprawling dining room where most of the other survivors were already eating. He found a spot near Champ and Maria, and Champ leaned over the table to give you a quick hug as Jack pulled out a chair for you before sitting down himself.

The temporary home had far more fresh food than Jack was used to, and it wasn’t until he dug into the home cooked meal prepared by the rest of the group that he realized how much he’d missed it. The entire time since he’d arrived at the bunker he’d been surviving on Statesman rations, and they were nothing compared to a warm, fresh dinner.

Most of the meal was eaten in silence, most of the group basking in the company of their reunited companions. Jack held your hand under the table, unable to bring himself to let it go just yet.

“To be completely honest, I’m surprised they let us in,” Champ said, “let alone let us stay when we told ‘em we’d be on our way tomorrow.”

“They’re good people,” Maria replied, “somethin’ tells me they’re just as happy to see other survivors as we are. Probably helps that this is a civilian run operation, too. From what we’ve heard over the past day or so, the military installments are far less friendly.”

“Color me shocked,” Jack quipped. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest at her words. He remembered his time in the Air Force. Military folks weren’t exactly known for their empathy, even before The End.

Dinner wrapped up not long after, most of the group chipping in to clean up afterwards before retiring to their respective rooms, you and Jack included. He couldn’t deny that the modicum that the room provided was another thing he was grateful for, along with the fact that he didn’t have a watch shift.

The wind howled outside, the storm from earlier still sweeping over the area. The two of you changed into your sleeping clothes quietly, and for a brief moment Jack considered stopping you before you’d put your pajamas on. Part of him wanted to run his hands along you, spend your first night together again in waves of ecstasy, but he knew the emotions were still too raw for such vulnerability. It could wait, he was more than content to simply have you with him again.

The two of you crawled into the somewhat cramped bed, facing the other. The dark of the room was intermittently chased away by the lightning, only to return again right after. Jack tenderly places a hand on your cheek, stroking your skin with his thumb.

“So what’dja think of those sunsets we had, sugar?” He asked softly.

“They were beautiful,” you replied, “I’d forgotten how breathtaking they were. And the stars - oh Jack, the _stars_. There were so many of them. You could see the whole galaxy.”

The lightning outside highlighted the excited gleam in your eyes, and it made Jack melt just looking at them. He tried to find the right words to tell you exactly what he wanted to say, but he always kept coming back to the same three.

Fear still gripped him, however, though he wasn’t completely sure why. Perhaps he was worried you wouldn’t share his affections. But then he went back to how you’d reacted when he’d opened your door. He worried that saying how he felt would be an open invitation from the universe to tear the two of you apart again.

Then he remembered how he’d tear the universe itself apart to keep you by his side from now on.

Jack looked at you, lightning casting your features into view every so often. He continued to stroke your cheek, matching your gaze as if he were trying to memorize your features. As he looked at you, and saw your eyes search his features, he realized that he couldn’t hide it from himself anymore. He couldn’t keep continuing to be afraid to tell you how he felt. It was time.

“I love you,” he breathed into the space between you, “I love you so much, baby.”

You looked at him for a moment, your expression unreadable until you put a hand over the one he had on your cheek.

“I love you too, Jack. More than you know.”

His heart swelled and Jack was fairly certain his eyesight blurred, but he was too busy pulling you in for a kiss to really notice. He was finally back in a safe, warm bed, and the woman he loved also loved him in return. The world outside was a mess of thunder and lightning and fear and death, but the world inside was unimaginably warm. He would set out with you and the rest of the agents in the morning, and start the dangerous trek up to the Statesman base near Chicago, but for now he would hold you in his arms as the storm raged outside, and he would let himself know peace. Even if it was just for the night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut in this chapter!

Jack woke slowly the following morning, the dim light of dawn streaming into the windows. It was a far cry from the pure darkness that he was used to waking up to, and he couldn’t stop a sleepy smile from forming on his face. He held you close, your back to his chest as he curled himself around you. Jack pressed a few small kisses to the back of your neck, not quite wanting to wake you up, but not particularly trying too hard not to. As you stirred slightly, he found himself almost eager to think that you were waking up. He had missed you throughout the night, after all. When you turned in his arms to face him, your eyes tired with a lazy smile upon your face, Jack felt as though the sun had finally blessed him once again.

“Hey,” you said softly.

“Hey yourself, sugar,” he replied, bringing a hand up from your waist to stroke lightly at your cheek, “looks like the storm rolled out sometime durin’ the night.”

“Yeah, looks like it,” you said, “I’d forgotten what those sounded like.”

Jack only smiled at you in response, before placing his palm on your cheek to tilt you in for a soft kiss. As his eyes slipped closed, he felt your hand settle along his jaw, and once he was secure in the fact that you weren’t going to pull away too soon, he returned his arm to your waist.

He kissed you several more times before letting out a low sigh, tightening his grip around you ever so slightly as he found his kisses turning more hungry. The hand on his jaw found its way to his hair and tangled within it, and Jack couldn’t help but trace his tongue along your bottom lip in a silent request that you immediately granted. As Jack slid his tongue along yours, he noticed how your hips had seemed to stutter, slightly brushing against his. When he pushed his own hips forward, you let out a quiet whine, a sound that immediately sent a jolt of heat down to Jack’s core.

He turned the two of you, so his top half was leaned over you to allow him a better vantage point to kiss you. Your lips never left his, and your tongue continued to taste into him. As the actions continued, Jack knew that what was to follow would likely be very different than the slow touches the two of you had shared in the darkened expanse of your room back at the bunker.

One of Jack’s hands slipped beneath your shirt, running along your breasts as he pulled the fabric up with his arm. You broke from him for a moment, pulling your shirt off as Jack moved to do the same. He remembered all those pitch black encounters, and how badly he’d wished that he could fully see your features. What he saw before him, your top half bared for him as you looked at him through your lashes from where you lay on the bed beneath him, was more than worth the wait and agony that he had been through to get there.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he murmured as he ran a hand along the expanse of your stomach, unable to keep himself from telling you what was going through his head.

“So are you,” you replied, your voice just as soft as you trailed one of your hands across his chest as he propped himself up on one elbow next to you.

Unable to keep himself from you any longer, Jack moved his hand up from your stomach, trailing over your breasts lightly before resting on your jaw as he slotted his lips against yours again. Your arms came up to circle his neck, and Jack’s hand began to wander back down, settling on your breast as he kneaded the soft skin there. You pulled your lips away from his in a heavy sigh, and your forehead nudged against his as his hand traveled down your stomach and to the waistband of your sleep pants.

“Can I touch ya, sugar?” Jack asked softly as he pulled away slightly to look at you, “Please?”

“Yes,” you breathed, nodding against him, opening those gorgeous eyes he loved so much. Jack took a moment for himself, just memorizing your features during this moment as you brought a hand to his cheek and rubbed your thumb along his skin. He’d had you like this plenty of times before back at the bunker, but he’d never been able to see your face like this. Never been able to see the reactions he’d earned from you. And he intended to make the most of it while he could.

Slowly, his hand dipped below the waistband of your pants and underwear in one motion. When his searching fingers found your folds, already wet for him as you let out a shaky breath and closed your eyes, he couldn’t stop the groan that ripped through him.

“Careful,” you whispered with a smile, “the walls here are thin. I don’t really wanna have to do the walk of shame all the way to Chicago later if we get too loud.”

Jack only chuckled softly in response, uttering a quiet apology before moving in to kiss you again as he let his fingers work. He found your clit almost immediately, a practiced movement that had you nearly crushing your lips to his as you attempted to quiet the moan that threatened to bubble out of you. He circled the bundle of nerves for a few moments before letting a finger trail down and slip into you with ease. Jack was so caught up in the rapture of having you beneath his hands once again, that he almost missed the feeling of your own hand trailing down his torso and towards his own tenting pants.

Almost.

“No, no, no,” Jack murmured, shifting his hips away from you slightly, “I wanna just focus on you right now, baby. Don’t wanna think about nothin’ else. Just wanna get lost in you, make you feel good. We’ll get to that later.”

You put forth no argument, bringing your arms back around his neck as you continued to kiss him and slide your tongue along his. Jack ventured to add another finger inside you, and found little resistance. As his thumb found your clit, Jack knew that he could make you cum like this. He knew that it would only be a matter of time before your breath would be hitching in your throat and your walls would be contracting around him. But he was after something much more that morning.

“Can I taste you, baby?” he asked timidly, “Wanna make you cum on my tongue. We can keep doin’ things just like this if you want, but-”

He attempted to tell you that he wasn’t trying to pressure you into anything, that he was fine with continuing on as the two of you had before, but you cut him off with a hard press of your lips against his.

“Please,” you panted, “Wanna feel your mouth on me, Jack.”

Jack could have sworn he’d died and gone to heaven. He only let out a heavy breath, coupled with a low “yes, ma’am” before removing his hand from your pants and quickly tossing the blanket off of the two of you, maneuvering you both so he was squarely atop you. He brought you in for one more heated, hungry kiss before he started to move his mouth along your jaw, then down your neck. As he got to your collarbone, he began to suck dark marks into your skin there, wanting you to have something to remember the encounter by that would be easy enough to keep a secret. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss in the space between your breasts before moving to your right, taking your nipple into his mouth. His hand came up to palm at the other, and he continued his movements for a time before switching his hand and mouth.

Once he had laved enough attention on your breasts, he continued his way down your body, leaving a trail of marks as he went. As he reached the waistband of your pants, he gently hooked his fingers into the elastic band and began to tug them down, closing his eyes to focus purely on the sensation of your warm skin against his hands and lips. You lifted your hips to allow him to pull them away from you, though his mouth and face stayed right below your navel as he did so, sliding your pants and underwear down your legs and off your body with a quiet urgency. He shouldered between your legs, propping your thighs on his shoulders while he pressed warm kisses to the inside of your thighs. As his hands found the apex of your legs and gently spread them open for him, he allowed his eyes to open.

The sight of your pussy before him, already slick with want, was just about enough to push him over the edge right them and there. He stared at the sight before him for a few moments, until he noticed your hips beginning to shift as your legs began to slowly move back together.

“No, baby, please,” Jack pleaded softly, pressing his hands to your thighs to keep them apart, “let me see you. Wanna see all of you. Wanna see what my gorgeous girl has hidin’ beneath those jeans.”

He stole a look up to your face then, delighting in the bashful smile that awaited him there. He pressed one more kiss, almost chaste in nature, to your inner thigh, before leaning close to lick a broad stripe up your folds.

It took everything in him to keep himself quiet at the taste of you. How long had he thought about doing just this, about savoring you in the early morning light? He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to fully admit that he’d imagined having you like this since before The End had even happened. It didn’t matter anymore, anyway. The world had burned, and the two of you had risen from its ashes, drawn to each other in the dark.

Any more of Jack’s thoughts fell to the wayside as he worked his tongue against you, savoring your small, quiet sounds that were barely audible over the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears. He found your clit again, smiling as he heard you let out a small yelp when he began to circle and flick his tongue against it. He then dipped down, allowing his tongue to fully slide into you as his nose continued to stimulate your clit in tandem with it. His hands had found your hips, holding you still so he could savor this moment. Jack began to alternate between dipping his tongue into you and bringing it up to lap and suck at your clit, letting out a shaky breath as he felt your hands tangle themselves in his hair. As he felt you start to involuntarily buck your hips, a sure sign that you were close, he focused the attention of his mouth solely on your clit, pressing two of his fingers into you with practiced ease. Your breathing quickened, and your thighs tightened their hold around his head.

“That’s it baby,” he mumbled against your skin, “take what you want. It’s yours. It’s all yours, darlin’. Let go for me. Let me taste you. Give it to me.”

It wasn’t long after that that Jack got what he wanted – your legs shook as your thighs clamped themselves together, holding his head and hand in place as you let out a quiet, strangled gasp of his name. He could feel your walls contract around his fingers, and he worked you through your orgasm slowly, wanting nothing more in that moment than to draw it out.

As you came down from your high and your thighs loosened from around his head, Jack drew himself back up your body, lightly kissing your skin as he went. If he was being honest, he would have been perfectly content to end the encounter there. He had done what he had set out to do, and he was paying his own leaking cock no mind as he attempted to roll off beside you.

“Wait,” you panted softly, stopping him before he could move from his spot atop you, “I… you can have me like this. If you want. We don’t have to stop.”

Jack studied your features, looking for any hint of hesitation. When he found none, he whispered softly to you.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” he asked, “We don’t have to do anythin’ else right now. It’s okay, I promise.”

“I know,” you said, bringing your hands up to cradle his face as you touched your foreheads together, “I want to. Who knows when we’re gonna get another chance like this. I want this. I want _you_.”

Jack pulled back slightly, looking at you with what he was sure was pure adoration.

“I love you, baby,” he murmured to you, “love you so much.”

“Love you, too, Jack,” you replied, and Jack felt like his heart was so full it may just burst.

You reached down to help him remove his own sleep pants and briefs, and he stood up only long enough to properly kick them off before returning to you. He reached down, sliding his cock against your folds a few times to properly coat himself in your release before aligning himself with your entrance. Jack looked at you one more time, a silent question in his eyes. He wanted to give you an out, a chance to change your mind. But instead of hesitation or trepidation, he found only love and certainty. 

Jack began to push himself into you, kissing you as he did so. He took his time, wanting you to savor every inch of him as he felt your pussy cling to him. Once he was fully seated within you, he stopped, pulling back to prop himself up on one elbow while he stroked your cheek with his hand. He wanted to say something, wanted to tell you how much he loved you and how long he’d waited for this exact moment. But for once in his life, his words eluded him. The two of you simply stared at each other for a few moments, gently feeling the other’s skin along your hands before you gave him a slight nod coupled with a roll of your hips.

Jack understood your signals, and began to pull himself out only to return to your warmth before he could move more than a couple of inches from you. He knew with that first thrust that he wouldn’t last as long as he wanted to. It had been far too long, and you felt far too good for him to be able to take his time as he originally planned to. As he increased his pace slightly, he dropped his head to the pillow behind your, placing his mouth next to your ear as he cradled your head in his arm. He could feel your hands at his shoulder blades, running themselves along the expanse of his back as your heavy breathing sounded in his ear.

“ _Fuck_ , you feel so good, baby girl,” Jack said lowly, “Can’t remember it ever feelin’ this good before.”

The only sound you made in response was to breathe his name, a soft sound that, had he not been so close, he may not have even heard. As his pace increased, Jack found that any concentration he had left in him went to controlling his volume instead of the words he spoke.

“Wanna keep you like this,” he said, “never wanna leave this. Wanna keep you with me. Wanna keep you safe. Never – never leavin’ you again, baby, I swear on my fuckin’ life. I’m yours, baby girl. I’m all yours. And you’re – _fuck_ – you’re mine. Gonna give you everythin’ you’ve ever wanted.”

“All I – all I want is you, Jack. That’s all I want,” you panted into his ear. He felt his hips start to stutter their pace, and he willed himself to last just a bit longer as he reached down to rub his fingers along your clit again.

“You’ve got me, baby girl,” he whispered, “for the rest of your _goddamn_ life, you’ve got me.”

You came undone around him, your walls fluttering around his cock as he found himself helpless to stave off his own climax any longer. He stilled within you, biting your shoulder to keep himself quiet as he felt the two of your combined aftershocks pulse around him and through him. Jack breathed with you, the heat slowly beginning to dissipate from the room as he pulled back to look at you properly. The two of you stared at each other for a moment, before light laughter bubbled up between you and Jack laid his forehead against yours. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so light, and he wanted nothing more than for this moment to last forever.

Alas, Jack rarely got what he wanted, and as he moved to your side to pull you to him, he could hear faint noises of some of the others slowly moving around to start their day. The two of you stayed as long as you could manage, tangled up in the other and pressing soft kisses to each other’s lips every so often, but as the morning wore on and the sunlight streaming through the window became more and more pronounced, so did the movements and talking of the other survivors.

“Come on, cowboy,” you said softly with a smile, “we’d better get going before everyone leaves without us.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “yeah, I guess you’re right, sugar.”

He pressed another kiss to your lips before the two of you got up, grabbing fresh clothes. The two of you dressed slowly, unable to take your eyes off of each other the entire time. As the two of you made sure your things were properly packed and in the correct bags this time, you hoisted the bags onto your shoulders and made your collective way down to the main foyer where the rest of the group was waiting. Jack caught Champ’s eye as he walked into the room, and Champ gave him a knowing smirk. There was only one reason Jack would be the last one to show up in the morning, and as much as Jack tried to hide all traces of what had happened to give you two some privacy, he couldn’t hide the smile that had took up permanent residence on his face. As soon as he met Champ’s eyes, Jack turned away with a somewhat embarrassed clear of his throat as he felt a surge of heat creep into his cheeks.

“Alright,” Champ said as he clapped his hands together, “we ready to get this show goin’?”

A slight murmur of agreement went through the group, some still tired and others seeming to hesitate in their answer. However, if Champ caught onto the slight trepidation from a few of the members of the group, he paid them no mind, as he led the way outside, followed closely by Maria, Jack, and yourself.

But instead of being met with a calm, idyllic small-town morning when they walked out the door, they were met with chaos. How they had missed it while they were just inside, Jack never did quite figure out, but as soon as the door opened they were met with screams and shouted orders as dozens of people sprinted towards the main gate where they’d come through just the night before. Champ and Jack shared a look, as did several of the other agents, before the entire group followed suit. All Jack could make out of the shouted orders of the guards near the gate was “horde” and “positions”. As they got closer, Champ managed to ask one of them what was going on.

“Got a bigass horde outside,” the man panted as he began to load his shotgun, “at least a hundred, I think? Comin’ right at the gate. Lotta fast ones. Must’ve been drawn to us last night when we had the lights goin’ durin’ the storm.”

The agents shared another silent look, one not unlike the one they’d shared back in the bunker when deciding to stay behind and take on that horde. A few of them had even split from the group, heading towards the gate with their weapons to help. Champ looked at his wife, and Jack looked at you. As you nodded at him, a silent granting of permission, Jack could make out Maria doing the same out of the corner of his eye.

Both he and Champ took off in the direction of the gate, which by this point was mere blocks away. The screeching of the undead just outside was clearly audible, as was the creaking and scraping of the metal holding the structure together. Jack made his way up to one of the guard towers, knowing that it wasn’t much higher than the rest of the gate but it would still make a good vantage point for what he intended to do. When he arrived there, he stilled for a split second, taking in the sea of writhing corpses below him. This horde was definitely smaller than the one they’d faced in the tunnel, but it was intimidating nonetheless, and Jack knew immediately that it was going to take a lot of blood, sweat, and tears to bring it to its knees.

All of which were sacrifices he was more than willing to make.

He grabbed the handle of his lasso, letting it loose and turning it electric. He threw the loop down into the crowd, catching wide swaths of Runners and Draggers in it. As he cinched it closed, he heard the crackling sound of it slicing through bone and flesh, and several of the offending creatures collapsed, either dispatched completely or at least bisected and made into much easier targets for the group using firearms through the slats in the gate down below.

Jack continued his motions, grabbing groups of them at once before pulling the lasso closed. He was so caught up in where to target his next loop that he nearly missed the sight of a streak of electricity cutting close to it, cutting down several Runners that had grouped together.Jack’s gaze whipped over to the neighboring guard tower to see where it had come from, and was met by the most ethereal sight he’d ever seen in his goddamn life.

There you were, his whip in hand, fully electric as you twirled it around your head before bringing it back downward into the horde with a satisfying _crack!_. You were laser-focused, and if you noticed Jack staring at you, eyes wide and mouth agape, then you made no indication of it. You were cutting down corpses left and right, with staggering speed and precision. Jack had half a mind to run over to the neighboring tower and get down on one knee in front of you to ask you to marry him right then and there, but he was wrenched out of his thoughts by one of the guards nudging him and asking him what was going on with him.

Jolted back to his senses, Jack continued to lasso through the horde, his heart skipping a beat as he caught sight of the electric whip out of the corner of his eye every so often. The horde shrunk, slowly but surely, and after what felt like far too long, the last Dragger was dispatched and a cheer rang out from down below. Jack immediately turned his attention across the way, locking eyes with you as he gave you a wide smile that he was certain was laced through with pure adoration. You quirked your own lips in a crooked smile, and the two of you began to make your way down your respective guard towers at the same time. When he found you again, he wasted no time pulling you into a crushing hug, lifting you and twirling you around.

“That’s my girl!” he said, an elated tone in his voice, “god, baby girl, you looked so good up there. You did so good. I’m so fuckin’ prouda you.”

You huffed out a quick laugh, then grabbed the retractable whip handle from your back pocket and extended it to him as if to give it to him.

“I realized that I still hadn’t given this back to you yet,” you said, “so I… I figured I’d see if I could help.”

Jack lightly pushed the handle back to you, refusing to take it back at this point.

“Oh no,” he said as he did so, “that’s yours now. Keep it.”

You shyly tucked it back into the side pocket of your pack, then grabbed Jack’s hand as he leaned in for a kiss. The residents of the town scurried around the two of you, clearing away the bodies from the gate in a timely manner, no doubt to be burned shortly. As Jack pulled away from you, he took your hand and met back up with the rest of the agents and their families, to find Champ talking to the leader of the town who had introduced himself as Marc when they’d arrived the day before.

“I gotta say, I dunno what we would have done without you folks,” Marc said, “we could use a few good folks like you all around here. We certainly won’t kick ya out if you wanna stay.”

“You makin’ an offer?” Champ said, wanting to make sure Marc was serious about his words.

“Sure am, sir,” he said, “However many of ya wanna stay, we’ll find places for. If you wanna go, we won’t stop ya, but we’d sure appreciate some more hands ‘round here.”

“Well,” Champ said, addressing his group of survivors at this point, “make yer choices, folks. Either ya go, or ya stay. Won’t make ya do either one, so do whatever y’all want. Just let me know when y’all decide.”

At this, the group split, and Jack turned to look at you, walking away from everyone else as several others had done to find a quiet spot to properly discuss your options.

“What do you think, darlin’?” he asked quietly.

“Well,” you started, “I… I don’t know. It’s so much nicer here than the bunker. So much more… normal. But you saw what just happened. What’s gonna happen next time when there aren’t as many agents here? What happens if another group of people come by? Ones who aren’t as nice as we are?”

Jack only nodded as he stroked his hand along his chin. He had to admit that you had a lot of good points. His first instinct had been to take Marc’s offer. Maybe he could give you a somewhat normal life here. But in the end, you were right. He’d be trading the sunlight and sense of normalcy for a fraction of the security that the Statesman bunkers had. And to him, keeping you safe was his top priority above all else.

“Well, I know what my choice would be,” Jack started, “but you know I ain’t stayin’ or goin’ anywhere you ain’t. So where are we goin’, darlin’?”

You heaved a sigh, a sound of resignation as you made your choice.

“We… we should go, I think,” you said finally.

“Just what I was thinkin’,” Jack said as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. He knew the choice was as difficult for you has it had been for him. It was a choice neither of you had wanted to make, but then again, those were the only choices that the two of you had seemed to encounter since The End. The two of you reconvened with the group, and Champ asked Jack what his decision had been. When Jack told him, he was met with a clap on the shoulder from the older man and a bittersweet smile.

“Well, then,” Champ said, “looks like you’re in charge from here on out, then, son.”

“What’re you talkin’ about, Champ?” Jack asked, afraid to hear his answer.

“Well, me an’ Maria talked it over,” Champ said, “and we’re gonna stay. It ain’t as safe as a bunker, but it sure beats bein’ in the dark.”

Your look of shock must have mirrored Jack’s, you looking at Maria as Jack eyed Champ. Maria gently patted your shoulder and continued for him.

“We’re gettin’ up there in years, dear,” she said, “and we’d like to live out the rest of ours under the sun. No matter the risk.”

“So since you were my second-in-command,” Champ went on, looking at Jack, “you’re in charge now. There are a few other people stayin’ too, so your group ain’t gonna be as big as it was, but I know you’ll do okay. You gotta knack for bossin’ people around.”

Jack could only nod in response as Champ pulled him into a quick hug with a pat on the back.

“You’ll do just fine, Jack,” he said, “I know you will.”

“It’s been an honor, sir,” Jack said as Champ pulled him back to arm’s length. Champ gave him a nod in response, and Jack looked over to see you hugging Maria in the same way before standing back with watery eyes.

Once the rest of the group had reconvened and given him their decision, they split into two smaller groups – those who were staying, and those who were leaving. Jack was relieved to find Tequila and Ginger among those who had chosen not to stay. Tequila would certainly help keep the civilians protected, and Ginger would no doubt be indispensable as a head medic. Jack looked over at you as Champ began to announce what was going on and who would be leading the group upwards towards Chicago.

“I don’t know if I can do this, sweetheart,” he said softly, his hand gripping yours.

“You can,” you responded in the same volume, careful to not let anyone else hear, “I know you can. I know you. You’re so strong, Jack. If anyone in this group can get us up to the Chicago bunker safely, it’s you. Besides, it’s not like you’re going to be doing this all alone. I’m right here, remember?”

Jack smiled at you, kissing your forehead lightly in response.

“Yeah,” he said, “I remember, sugar.”

Champ finished his short speech, and the groups bid a collective farewell to each other as the guards moved to open the gate to let them through. They had taken the initiative to clear the group a path through the bodies, taking care to not make any of you step on any of the dispatched dead. Jack took one more look back, giving Champ one final nod before he turned towards the horizon to lead his group north.

As the small band of survivors – _Jack’s_ band of survivors – stepped away from the makeshift gate, he felt your hand slide into his. He laced his fingers with yours, looking over at you with a smile. The group began to move, and Jack could make out the sound of the metal gate creaking shut behind the group as it began its journey into the unfamiliar world before it.


	5. Chapter 5

The world was quiet. Almost completely silent, actually.

It wasn’t like the sights Jack was seeing on the trek away from the metal gate were new. Jack had been seeing them for days while he was tracking your group with the other agents. But now that he had you with him and could focus on something other than finding you and praying to whoever would listen that he’d find you alive, the world seemed to shift and spin beneath his feet. He’d forgotten how much the world could change in just a few months without any kind of human influence.

The grass was tall and unkempt, concrete barely visible beneath it as he led the quiet group through the rest of the town that hadn’t been barricaded during the initial wave of armageddon. Various shrubs and small trees sprouted from once-busy sidewalks, and as much as Jack tried to keep his eyes cast away from the sparse abandoned houses along the route, he couldn’t help but look.

The dark windows and doorways loomed, quiet and shadowed. Most of the dwellings had no doors at all, or at least ones that were wide open, exposing the now weathered interiors. Windows were either smashed in or covered in a layer of dust, rendering the views inside invisible from the street. The entire group was hushed, as if listening for the shuffling of feet or hungry grunting coming from within the darkness. But to the collective relief of everyone huddled together, it appeared that the hungry infected had long since cleared out of the immediate area. Jack had a feeling that they’d find nothing within the houses – no supplies, nothing of any kind of use, no bodies. Small towns tended to take care of their own, and Jack was sure that the houses had long since been picked clean and whoever had perished within had been laid to rest. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but spare a few looks every so often into the quiet darkness, almost as if willing something to emerge from within.

Nothing ever did.

Once the houses had been left far behind, the group seemed to ease. Jack kept the group angled north, knowing that specific directions towards the Chicago Statesman bunker wouldn’t be needed for a good while yet. Just continuing north would be enough for now.

The sun continued its ascent, slowly fading into a descent as the sky began to darken. Jack’s little band continued to move, wading through overgrown grass and treading lightly along cracked asphalt. Not much was said, aside from the occasional request for rest or food that was immediately granted. They were on no time frame, there was no need to push anyone past their limits.

Every once in a while, the group would stumble upon a wayward Dragger or Runner, without a group to belong to and usually looking emaciated and malnourished. Every straggler was quickly dispatched with a puff of a silenced firearm, any danger and adrenaline quickly dissipating. They’d all seen this very same scenario too many times to be surprised by it now.

The sun dipped low, and the survivors had made their way into an abandoned town. From the look of it, it wasn’t very large, only containing a gas station and several long-abandoned homes.

“Why don’t we check out the gas station?” You asked, “we might be able to restock some food and med supplies there if there’s anything left.”

Jack nodded, having thought the same thing. The group approached slowly, most of the civilians bringing up the rear along with a couple agents for protection. But you were right next to Jack in the front, pulling a large hunting knife from a pocket in your backpack. The storefront was in shambles, the glass doors shattered and torn off their hinges, no doubt done by either desperate survivors or desperate infected. The inside was in disarray, with a mixture of food and other convenience store items scattered across the floor. The group split apart, you opting to try and find any non-perishables with the rest of the civilians while Jack took his fellow agents to make sure the back storerooms were clear and searched through. He’d initially asked a few to stay behind and keep an eye on you and the others, but you’d assured him that you’d all be fine on your own.

“This place was abandoned a long time ago, Jack,” you’d said, “The only things left here are bones and ashes.”

When he stepped through the back door, flashlight in hand, Jack knew that they wouldn’t find anyone alive. He could tell that by the stench alone.

It was a sharp tang of decay, a horrific mix of death and desperation. Bloodstains littered the room, as did several rotted corpses of what Jack could only assume were infected. In the corner rested another corpse, though this one appeared to have been dispatched by their own hand, judging by the bloodstains surrounding it. How exactly they’d passed would remain a mystery, the body too badly decayed and partially mummified to really discern any injuries.

However, Jack managed to notice a backpack near the body, and gently grabbed it to look through its contents with a quiet apology to the deceased. Why exactly he felt the need to apologize to a corpse, he didn’t know. It simply felt like the right thing to do.

The bag contained few things that would have been considered useful, though Jack managed to find a couple of canned goods and boxes of bandages. At the very bottom there appeared to be a folded-up piece of photo paper.

He left it where it was.

Just as he was about to turn to the agents and tell them that the place was cleared out, he heard a crash outside followed by a series of screams and yells. Immediately thinking the worst, he and the rest of the agents shared a look before sprinting back out of the back door.

When they returned, the rest of the group was waiting for them, some of them wide-eyed and panicked, others holding people close to them to shield them. You, however, were standing at the forefront, blood covering your forearm and an infected body at your feet.

“Before you panic,” you said, holding up your bloody arm enough for Jack to notice the knife you were holding, “the blood isn’t mine.”

You must have noticed the way Jack’s eyes had widened and his face had drained of color when he walked through the door. Nevertheless, Jack sped towards you, pulling your arm to him and turning it to inspect it for any cuts, scrapes, or, god forbid, bites. He didn’t breathe again until he found none. He let out a sigh, putting a hand on the back of your neck to tilt your head forward to press a gentle, relieved kiss to your forehead.

The other agents got to work attempting to comfort their own people as well as look around the immediate area for any more stragglers, while Jack took a short reprieve to touch his forehead to yours. A small moment amid the relief and chaos, a small snippet of time to ground himself to you. The world faded away, all except for slight murmurs of disjointed conversation that he managed to catch from within his reverie.

“-just came out of nowhere-”

“Grabbed one of the boys-”

“-killed it. She didn’t even hesitate-”

The relief in Jack’s chest was joined by a strange sense of pride. It sounded like you’d taken the initiative immediately, not even bothering to think before you’d jumped to someone else’s rescue. A far cry from the woman he’d watched hesitate to shoot a Dragger back at the bunker.

“Were you able to find anything back there?” your voice asked, cutting through Jack’s memory like the knife that was still in your hand.

“Some,” he answered, purposefully omitting the discovery of the body, “some food, bandages. Not much more than that. Anything out here?”

“A little. Some more food, some bottled water too. But for the most part, everything got either picked clean or destroyed at some point,” you responded.

“Well,” Jack said, nodding along with what you were saying, “somethin’s better than nothin’. I’m sure they’ll come in handy later.”

You nodded with him, and began to move with the rest of the group back outside as you walked slightly ahead of Jack and next to Tequila. The sun was low, almost completely below the horizon. The area around the small town was barren, no stands of trees to hide in. Your band of survivors would be open targets for anyone – or anything – that came across you in the middle of the night, a thought that put an uneasy pit in Jack’s stomach.

“Gotta couple’a houses we could shack up in for the night,” Tequila sounded, almost as if Jack had spoken his concerns aloud, “just gotta pick one to clear out.”

“Might as well pick the smallest one,” you said, “easier to clear out. It’s not like we’re gonna all need separate rooms, anyway.”

“Oh, I dunno, lady,” Tequila said, a teasing lilt to his voice, “I think you and Jack could probably use - _OW”_

He was promptly cut off by your elbow digging into his ribs.

The other civilians noted that they agreed with your assessment, however. So you moved along, attempting to find the smallest dwelling for the night. There were only a handful of houses to be seen, most of them looking identical: all one story tall, small ranch-type houses. Though there was one at the far end of the scattering of buildings that appeared to be slightly smaller than the rest, so Jack led his survivors there. Though it was only a few blocks away, the sky had grown considerably darker by the time you all arrived. The agents withdrew their flashlights, as did a few civilians, though not a single one was illuminated until they were fully inside the house. No sense in waving around a beacon in the middle of enemy territory.

The place was cleared fairly quickly, each room checked and thoroughly gone-through before the group convened in one of the bedrooms farthest away from the front door. There was one large bed in the middle of the room, plus various furniture that was used to barricade the door and block the single window. The group huddled together, still designating watch shifts just to make sure nothing untoward occurred through the night, and settled in to rest. Jack pulled your back to his chest, keeping you close as he drifted into a dreamless sleep.

The call for his watch shift came far too soon for Jack’s liking. He was gently shaken awake by Tequila, who informed him that it was his turn. Jack extracted himself away from you slowly, moving to sit up while Tequila bedded down across the room. He couldn’t find it in himself to move too far from you, and as such, wound up sitting against the wall, his legs crossed and still touching your back as he settled in for his two hours of watch.

His mind wandered to you as he watched you sleep with your little stuffed cat in hand, a luxury that he hadn’t been able to afford when he was keeping watch out in the open wilderness. He remembered how he’d quietly pined for you in the days before The End. How he’d come home after work, more excited about possibly getting the chance to chat with you than anything else. How you’d talk and laugh and joke with him, making him forget the kind of man he had to be when he was away at work. He remembered the first time he’d invited you over for a movie – as friends, of course – and you’d fallen asleep leaning on his shoulder. You’d woken up after a few minutes, stirring lightly before looking over and giving Jack a sleepy smile. He’d wanted nothing more than to kiss you then, but had been too afraid of ruining what the two of you had together.

Funny how the end of the world made such worries seem so trivial.

Jack continued to keep an eye on things through his shift, never hearing so much as a scratch or shuffling anywhere outside of the barricaded door and window. Once his time was up, he returned to his place behind you, once again curling you into him. He couldn’t help but smile when he felt your hand find his while you still slept.

As dawn crept over the horizon, the agents began to stir, quickly followed by the civilians. Not many of those in attendance were particularly eager to continue on their way so soon, but Jack knew that the group couldn’t sustain themselves in this meager little home forever. So after a short meal of light rations, the barricade on the door was removed, and the group set out once more.

The survivors fell into the closest thing resembling a routine that could probably have been found outside in the wastelands of the Midwest. You would travel by day, covering as much ground north as possible without overexerting yourselves, then when the sun began to dip low in the sky again, you would all bed down in the safest area you could find. Usually this was in an abandoned home of some sort if you could find one, though there were a couple of days where a stand of trees had to make do. None of the group complained, knowing full well that the alternatives for your situation were far worse than anything you were facing now.

After roughly a week, every overgrown field and abandoned town seemed to morph together in Jack’s mind. They all appeared to look the same, just with slightly different contents. A scattering of houses, maybe a gas station or convenience store that you would all go into in order to try and scavenge what little supplies were left, but not much else. Secretly, Jack was grateful that the route he’d apparently taken by chance hadn’t taken you through any large cities yet. He shuddered to think what the decently sized city back home looked like after all these months. Was there even anything left of his old town? Or had it all been burned away in the fires of judgement day? He had a feeling he’d never know.

One afternoon, shortly after the group had stopped for a small meal from your dwindling supplies, you came upon a ridge that overlooked a decent expanse of land. Below it was a decently sized town as well, bustling and seemingly alive and uninfected. However, there was one small problem.

Jack could spot the military vehicles entering and exiting from a mile away. It seemed that the State had gotten there first and had set up camp. He asked the group to stop, explaining that there was a decently sized military settlement just down the ridge. One that seemed like it would take less than a day to get to. But there were some things he wanted to discuss with you first, and graciously the group let Jack lead you a short ways off, his hand at the small of your back guiding you just out of ear’s reach.

“So?” Jack ventured, “Whaddya think? Might be a good idea to try and get some more supplies and stock up before we keep on our way. We gotta be gettin’ close now, though I’ll know for sure once I check the map.”

“I don’t know, Jack,” you said quietly, “you know military types. They’ll take us in, but I’m not really sure they’d let us leave, much less just give us supplies. Especially once they find out you guys are Statesman. Knowing our luck, they’d just force you all to stay there, and ship us off to… wherever they’re taking civilians. Sure doesn’t look like they’ve got any down there.”

Jack pondered. He had to admit that you had a point. He’d hung around enough people during his time in the military to know the apocalypse was their dream scenario. Unlimited power with none of the bureaucratic red tape. They rose from the ashes of the world, new gods for a new world. The whole thing put a sour taste in his mouth.

But the group needed supplies.

“Well, we can either try our luck here, or hold out and hope we find another small town who’s willin’ to be generous,” he said finally. Two options, both alike in how unsure and possibly dangerous they were.

“We can always take a vote,” you offered, “retain some shred of democracy at least.”

Jack huffed out a laugh. Sure. One last shred of democracy among the rubble of society.

Why not.

He put an arm on the small of your back, leading you back to the awaiting group.

“So what’re we doin’, boss?” Tequila asked, no doubt voicing what was on everyone else’s mind.

“What we’re doin‘,” Jack said, “is takin’ a vote. We can either take our chances here and hope the military’s feelin’ generous enough to let us have supplies and leave afterward, or we can keep truckin’ and try to find another small town with some manners. I’m leavin’ it up to y’all.”

“And what do you think, lady?” Tequila asked, this time turning to you. The rest of the group followed suit, falling silent as they awaited your answer.

“Well,” You treaded lightly, “neither option is great. The military may very well not let us leave, or will take what we have left before throwing us out. But who knows when we’re gonna come across another civilian settlement. Or if they’ll be willing to part with their resources when we do.”

There was a scattering or nods across the group, a silent agreement before they all began to murmur amongst themselves. Once the chatter had died down and dozens of eyes returned to the two of you, Jack spoke again.

“Alright, show of hands: military setup?” He asked. A number of hands raised, and were carefully counted.

“Keep movin’?”

Again, a number of hands raised. And again, they were carefully counted. The decision had been made.

“Sounds like we’re givin’ this one a wide berth, folks,” Jack commented, “let’s pack up and make sure to stay outta sight of the feds. We’re gonna keep goin’.”

And with that, the group was on the move once more. The straight line that you’d been traveling thus far was exchanged for a wide arc, making sure to stay well away from the military and any frequented routes in and out of the settlement. The last thing Jack needed was to have finally made a decision only for the lot of you to be rounded up on some officer’s hunting route and brought back like spoils of war to be used for labor and supplies. So you headed west. Jack figured that once the settlement was safely beyond the horizon, you could begin moving north again.

You came down the ridge slowly, taking care to keep an eye out for any potential military patrols in the area. Most of the day was spent in silence, a heavy sense of anxiety descending upon the group. At least the undead were easily dispatched if they became a threat. Living humans with heavy-duty weaponry? Not so much. Jack felt confident that he and the rest of the agents would have a fighting chance, but he declined to think about what would happen if the pursuing military fleet outnumbered them and left the civilians alone. Sure, you’d all proven yourselves more than capable of defending yourselves, but even that training only went so far when presented with years of State-sponsored obedience.

Once the settlement was safely behind the horizon, Jack turned back north, and continued on your previous path. However, just as he was about to breathe a sigh of relief at the avoidance of a confrontation, his heart stopped.

Just within his field of hearing came the sound of what could have only been a heavy-duty vehicle rumbling down the pathway.

“Looks like we might have company,” he said quickly, “Into those trees, now! And duck down low! If you can see them, they can see you. So get down into the brush and cover yourselves.”

The group wasted no time in heeding Jack’s instructions, all scrambling for the aforementioned foliage without hesitation. As soon as you’d hit the treeline, you’d all ducked into the low-lying shrubs at the base of the tree trunks. The rumbling noise of the rig grew louder, and within moments, a large vehicle was groaning down the dirt path in front of you. Jack prayed that it would simply continue on its way, unperturbed and none the wiser to the band of people hiding just within the treeline.

But something told Jack that the higher powers had stopped listening a long time ago.

The vehicle stopped, likely having seen the fresh footprints in the dirt before them. Two men jumped from the driver’s and passenger’s doors, rifles drawn and moving slowly, scanning the area around them.

“These weren’t here earlier today, were they?” asked one, referring to the footprints.

“Don’t think so,” the other replied, “they look fresh, too. Wonder if a horde just passed through.”

“Fuck, I hope so,” said the first soldier, “it’s been weeks since I’ve had some good target practice.”

Jack’s blood ran cold. He’d had a feeling that the military types would be markedly blasé about having to gun down creatures that had once been people, but even he hadn’t forseen them seeking it out or enjoying it. It appeared that the dead weren’t the only dangerous things left around this area. The two soldiers stopped talking for a moment, and Jack heard quiet, panicked breathing coming from the rest of the group. He thanked his lucky stars that none of them had started hyperventilating or making any other noise that couldn’t be passed off as wind filtering through the forest. He found his hand subconsciously coming to rest on the six-shooter that was holstered at his hip. He had a feeling it wouldn’t match up much with the automatic rifles the soldiers were holding, but at least it would be something.

“Well,” the first soldier began again, “I don’t hear anything. If a horde _did_ come though here, it looks like it’s long gone. Still, couldn’t hurt to check.”

With that, the soldier aimed his rifle to the sky, and fired off a series of shots. Jack heard several panicked gasps come from the group around him, though everyone regained their composure remarkably quickly.

“Hey!” the second soldier barked, “Enough of that! If the boss finds out you’re wasting ammo again he’ll have your ass. And this time, I’ll let him.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” the other retorted, “just figured I’d make extra sure there weren’t any infected hiding around. If there were, that woulda drawn ‘em out. Wouldn’t be wasting ammo if it was used to take out a few of those things, would it?”

The first soldier scoffed before throwing out a quick “just get back in the truck, dumbass”. It appeared that the other soldier had done as instructed, for moments later Jack heard the engine start back up and the vehicle rumble on its way along the dirt path. As he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, he quickly turned his attention back to you. Your eyes were focused on the ground, your breathing still shaky and labored.

“Fuck, Jack, they could have killed us,” you breathed, “if he’d just decided to pepper the tree line instead of shooting into the sky –“

“He didn’t though,” Jack interrupted, not wanting or needing you to get yourself worked up over the potential outcomes, “he didn’t and we’re fine. We’re all okay, and now we can keep movin’ and get the hell outta here.”

He placed a hand on your cheek, turning your head to make sure you really heard his words. You looked at him for a moment before giving him a short nod, and he kissed you briefly before turning to the rest of the group.

“Alright,” he said, “Let’s get movin’ before anyone else comes this way.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

The trek through the forested area was even more silent than the short walk down the ridge just moments before, everyone choosing to keep themselves hypervigilant for any sounds of errant branches breaking or shuffling feet following the group. The sparse light filtering through the canopy above did little to assuage the fears of those in attendance, the dark only bringing an extra level of uncertainty and anxiety.

The world turned dark again, and once more, the group bedded down between the brush and foliage together, the only safety to be found being in their numbers. Jack volunteered as first watch, and once again made sure at least some part of him was touching you in some way, whether it be his leg gently resting against your back, or a hand atop your shoulder. You’d decided to leave your plush cat in your bag, not wanting to lose it in any possible ensuing scramble to fight or flee, and Jack hoped that perhaps his own touch would bring enough comfort to help you sleep through the night. It was difficult enough to see in the darkness of the dense forest, so he settled for training his hearing as best as he could.

Shortly before the halfway mark of his watch shift, Jack heard something moving around nearby, and instinctively pulled his pistol from his hip.

“Easy, boss, it’s just me,” came Tequila’s whispered voice as he sat next to Jack while explaining that he couldn’t sleep.

“I saw you lookin’ at the map earlier,” he remarked, “so how close are we?”

“We oughtta be there in a couple more days,” Jack whispered back, “there’s a clearing comin’ up here soon, should be a small town somewhere in there. We might be able to refuel before continuin’. Then there should be a ridge to climb, but the bunker should be just on the other side.”

“Do you…” Tequila started before trailing off, “do you think it’s still there?”

“’Course,” Jack said with a slight scoff, “where the hell else would it have gone?”

“You know what I mean, jackass,” Tequila quipped back, “do you think it’s still safe to be at? I mean our own base got overrun, and there were probably a lot fewer of those things hangin’ around our neck of the wood than there are up here.”

“Well, we won’t know til we get there,” Jack replied, not wanting to even consider the alternative, “But the Chicago agents are tough. And there’s more of ‘em. I’m sure they’re all fine.”

The two of them then fell into silence, a volume that stayed consistent until Jack’s watch shift was over and he bid Tequila goodnight as he fell asleep next to you once more.

The next morning found the group more anxious to get going than usual, eager to make it out of the densely wooded area. Jack remembered you joking once that the densest woods held the oldest things, and he couldn’t help but agree in those moments.

Just as the map had predicted, however, the forest cleared a few hours later, and Jack could see another small town just on the other side. However, much to his dismay, it didn’t appear to be any kind of civilian settlement as he’d hoped. Just another gathering of abandoned and nearly destroyed houses and a few stores in between. Jack had the group condense their supplies, and made sure to keep them conserved as much as possible through the day. A few quick surveys of the stores in down brought up little more than perhaps a handful of canned goods, though Jack was surprised at the sheer number of Draggers within the town. They were easy enough to dispatch, but he found it odd that there were no Runners among them. Perhaps they’d all moved on in search of more prey. But something about the lack of them was disquieting to say the least.

Nevertheless, neither the group nor Jack were ones to look a gift horse in the mouth, so once the slow-moving dead were taken care of and the stores scavenged through, you moved on without a glace back. Jack could see the ridge up ahead, and though he wanted nothing more than to push through the night and clear the ridge by morning, he surrendered to the collective request for sleep. A house was chosen to clear, and once more the group huddled together into a bedroom and barricaded yourselves in for the night.

During Jack’s shift awake, he once again heard shuffling. Except this time, it wasn’t coming from the group. It was coming from outside.

He shook Tequila awake, telling him to wake the rest of the agents but leave the civilians asleep for as long as possible. Once the band of agents were awake, Jack explained what was going on.

“Well, we know where the Runners all went,” he said as quietly as he could manage, “they must’ve all banded together for some reason and left the Draggers behind. But from the sound of all the runnin’ and groanin’ comin’ from outside, I’d say they’re back.”

Part of him considered that the Runners had taken off to find prey, then brought it back to the rest of the Draggers who had stayed behind. He expected nothing less from true pack animals. He wondered if they’d notice the conspicuous absence of Draggers in certain areas, or if their minds were too far deteriorated to piece together the meaning of their deaths.

“It sounds like they’re all still outside,” came Ginger’s voice in the dark. Jack hadn’t heard much from her since leaving the bunker, but she was still one of the quickest thinkers and best strategists the group had, especially now, “maybe they’ll pass up the house and we can sneak by them later.”

“That’s what I’m hopin’,” Jack said, “as long as they stay outside, they shouldn’t be able to smell us or hear us, just as long as everyone keeps their heads on. This place is pretty far off from downtown, so I’m hopin’ they just move along and give us room to haul ass in the mornin’. But I wanted y’all awake and alert just in case one of ‘em gets the bright idea to go snoopin’ around inside the house and sounds off to the rest that there’s somethin’ in here.”

He caught faint glimpses of several of the agents nodding in the dark, and from then on, they all sat in complete silence while the horde of Runners sprinted by outside. No one moved. No one seemed to breathe. At one point Jack heard a few footfalls stop just outside of the barricaded window, and imagined that if he could see what was on the other side, he’d see a couple of Runners hovering by it, their foul breath fogging up areas of the window. Luckily, however, they appeared to not find anything worth investigating further and continued on their way shortly after.

How the rest of the civilian group managed to sleep through the ordeal, Jack would never know. But by some grace of the universe, everyone else continued their slumber, completely unawares of the predators stalking them just outside of their self-imposed cage.

After what seemed like eons of stillness and silent panic, the noises outside shifted onward, and before long after that, silence descended upon the area once more. A faint glow of morning light had begun to seep through the dusty window, and Jack and the other agents waited patiently for their chance to rouse the group and escape from the room. After the sun had risen to a respectable height, Jack nodded, an indication that the world had been quiet enough for a long enough period of time to warrant an impromptu evacuation.

The agents woke their people, Jack following suit as he gently shook you awake. He explained to you what had happened through the night, and though you tried to ask him why he hadn’t woken you up, Jack refused to apologize for it.

“Better for you to stay asleep than be up all night panickin’ when we had everythin’ handled,” he said softly, “besides, if one of them had gotten inside the house or if somethin’ had started escalatin’, then I promise you woulda been the first to know.”

You nodded slightly, knowing better than to argue with him at this moment. It was better to just continue on your way as soon as possible, putting as much distance between you and the horde of Runners as possible.

The agents left the building first, with Jack, Tequila, and Ginger bringing up the front. Once they’d determined you were all out of eyesight and earshot of any infected, they signaled to the rest of you to follow them across the expanse and towards the ridge just up ahead.

As you moved, Jack had to keep himself from sprinting ahead several times, far too eager to get over the ridge and confirm that the bunker warehouse on the other side was safe and intact. He continued to replay his conversation with Tequila those few nights ago. What if it had been compromised? What if a horde had already found it, too? What if there just was no bunker left?

“Hey. You’re overthinking again,” your voice said, cutting through his worries once more.

“I know,” Jack replied, squeezing your hand as he held it, “I’m just ready to get somewhere safe again.”

He stopped just short of saying that he couldn’t bear to have you out in danger like this any longer. He stopped just short of saying that you were his main priority above all else, and that no matter what happened to the rest of the group he was entrusted with, as long as you were unharmed and by his side, he didn’t particularly care. Though he thought it better not to express such sentiment while the rest of the group was in earshot. It would be hard for him to be a trusted leader if his people knew he’d sacrifice them all for you in a heartbeat. It wasn’t like he wasn’t going to do his absolute best to keep them safe as well, anyway. You would just always come first.

The day wore on, and as the sun reached its peak in the sky, so too did Jack move ahead just slightly from the group, wanting to be the first to reach the peak of the ridge to scout out the status of the bunker on the other side.

As soon as he did, he almost wished he hadn’t. He yanked the map out of his bag, opening it up and studying it again. Jack took one last look at the map before turning his eyes back to the scene before him, not wanting to believe that the map dictated that you’d reached your destination.

Just below the ridge, right where the warehouse entrance to the bunker was, he caught glimpses of Draggers and Runners. All meandering around, none of them in any particular kind of formation. The metal gates into the yard of the building were wide open, and Jack could barely make out the fact that the doors to the warehouse itself were smashed open as well. Judging by the fact that the infected weren’t scrambling to get inside, the perimeter had been breached long ago. And the amount of undead outside were just as many as the horde that had destroyed their own inner gate back home, if not more.

Jack Daniels surveyed the scene, and with a sinking sense of disappointment and desperation settling quickly into his stomach, he realized the most likely outcome of what he was looking at.

The Chicago bunker was overrun.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vague mentions of sex in this chapter. Nothing explicit. Time for a finale!

No.

No no no.

This couldn’t be happening. Jack refused to believe it. There was no way he was staring at your last bit of hope, watching undead and hungry infected milling around in droves.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Oh hell.”

He jumped at the sound of your voice, too caught up in the sound of his heartbeat roaring in his ears to hear you approach. He could only imagine the wild look he must have given you, because you quickly reached a tender hand out to place on his arm.

“Hey, hey,” you said softly, “sit down for a second.”

Jack didn’t think twice before complying, flopping down on the grass with his full weight. His hands raked across his face, a desperate attempt to ground himself as you kneeled in front of him and cradled his cheeks in your hands.

“Jack,” you said gently with a hint of firmness, “look at me. Just me.”

He did his best, struggling to pull himself out of his mind and back to you. He vaguely wondered if this was how you’d felt when you’d first showed up at his house all those months ago, terrified and covered in blood.

“Where’s the next nearest bunker?” You asked, “maybe we can just keep going.”

“The next bunker’s in Colorado. Denver I think. There’s no way we’ve got enough supplies to make the walk there,” Jack said, shaking his head and closing his eyes. He subconsciously pulled his knees close, as if curling in on himself, only to feel you tilt his head forward and rest your forehead on his.

“We’ll figure something out,” you said, “there’s got to be a way to clear out the surrounding area, so we can at least get inside. Maybe it’s just the outer gate that’s compromised.”

“Baby, look at those doors,” Jack gestured as he pulled away from you, “there’s no fuckin’ way the inner gate’s still functional.”

“Yeah, well, there should also be no fuckin’ way the dead are able to get up and walk, but weirder shit has happened,” you remarked, and if Jack thought enough on it, he had to admit that you were right.

“Maybe we can pick ‘em off. Just take it slow, clear it out one by one. Then when we get inside it’ll be easier to funnel them through the doors?” You asked.

Jack nodded lamely, not having any of his own ideas on the matter. The Draggers wouldn’t be too difficult to pick off. They never seemed to have much cognizance unless there was food right in front of them. But the Runners… the Runners seemed… smarter, for lack of a better word. If they saw their brethren fall or heard any loud noises, they’d inevitably find the source and descent upon the group en masse.

“There’s gotta be a way to separate them into smaller groups,” you mused, turning back to look at the swarm below, “some way to lure a manageable number of them somewhere else.”

“It’d be a whole lot easier if we could pick ‘em off from here,” said Jack, leaning on you for support while also looking at the scene below, “but I can’t imagine our pistols would be effective enough from this distance. It’d sure help if we had some sniper rifles.”

“The military outfit back there might have some,” You posited, earning a raised eyebrow from Jack.

“Sweetheart, I love you more than life itself,” he started, “but are you seriously suggestin’ we try to rob the fuckin’ military?”

“The idea seemed more plausible in my head,” you admitted sheepishly. Jack couldn’t help but huff out a laugh, a fleeting glimpse of humor among the desperation.

You pulled his face to yours, kissing him slowly. His hands found purchase on your waist, pulling them to him while you kneeled before him.

“We’ll make it, Jack,” you murmured against his lips, “we’ve made it this far.”

Jack nodded, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before he let you help him up from the grass. You walked with him hand in hand back to where the rest of the survivors were standing down the hill.

Jack broke the news to the group without fanfare or nonsense. He told them that the bunker had been overrun, and you watched a collective look of horror spread through the group, some of them gasping or covering their open mouths. He explained how the swarm on the outside of the building was lazy and scattered, indicating that it had been a long time since the place had been compromised.

“But,” he said, “that just means they ain’t all in one big group. There’s a stand of trees off to one side. We can hide there and lure ‘em over, a little at a time. Once an area’s clear, we’ll keep goin’ until we get ‘em all. Hopefully we get inside and find the inner gate functional. But if not, we’ll deal with that once we get there.”

The group was a mix of reactions. Some nodded numbly. Others murmured to each other. Others still didn’t move at all, rendered catatonic from the news that their last ditch effort had appeared to be for naught. Jack brought a couple of the agents closer to him, those who were willing to part from their people for a short few minutes, anyway. He explained in hushed tones what the plan was, asking them how many of the civilians had any kind of weapons experience. Most everyone did, necessity having driven them to at least attempt to train with the weapons in their packs. Whether they were any good, or wouldn’t freeze upon the sight of a Dragger lumbering towards them, however, remained to be seen. But it would have to do. You would need all the extra hands and weapons you could get if Jack was to lead a stealth assault on that many infected.

The sun was still decently high in the sky, sunset still being hours off at least. So the decision was made to head down the ridge, staying within the stand of trees that hugged the right side of the expanse below. The group moved slowly, many taking the opportunity to take their weapons out of their bags and prepare as best as they could. Jack removed his six shooter, keeping the handle of his lasso tucked in an easily-accessible place. The decision had been made to let the agents take care of the Runners, while the civilians did their best to pick off the Draggers. If too many advanced at once or if the Draggers got too close, however, the agents wouldn’t hesitate to step in and pick off whatever was in reach.

You reached the bottom of the ridge not long after the start of your trek. When the area was reached, Jack instructed the agents to spread out, along with the civilians if possible. The last thing he needed was to have everyone concentrated in the same place and have someone get hit with friendly fire. You stopped before Jack did, and before he continued a few feet down the way to his own spot, he kissed you. It tasted of the same desperation as the kiss you’d shared when he’d told you to evacuate the original bunker, though Jack prayed with everything he had that the desperation and dread would be unfounded. Once Jack was in position – the last one of the group, he sent a nod down the line of agents and civilians.

And the battle began.

It started slowly, with people slowly picking off the Draggers and Runners that were closest to them. Jack thanked his lucky stars for the level of silence the Statesman firearms offered – any more noise than the sound of bodies disappearing into the high grass and hitting the ground would have attracted far more infected into the area than they were equipped to handle.

The supply of nearby infected was quickly exhausted, and Jack considered himself blessed when none of the other infected wandered over to investigate. The chunk you’d managed to clear was nothing to scoff at, and he could only pray that the rest would go as well.

But now came the tricky part – luring the rest nearby without alerting too many.

Jack opted for aiming his pistol at the chain link fence surrounding the warehouse. His gun wouldn’t make any noise, but if he could hit the chain link just right, that might cause enough of a stir to bring in some more targets. He held up a hand to the rest of the group, signaling you to stand down until he could hopefully execute his plan.

Jack took careful aim, directly at the juncture between two links where the material was thickest. He pulled in a deep breath, using both hands on one pistol to make sure he didn’t waver. He fired, and almost instantaneously he heard a loud clang of the bullet hitting its target.

The group collectively held its breath as dozens of infected swiveled their heads to try and discern the source of the noise. After a while without a follow up, some turned their attention elsewhere. But some fell directly into Jack’s trap, stumbling or brusquely walking over to investigate.

Right into range of your group.

Jack sent down another nod when he felt the targets were close enough, and within moments more bodies began to fall. This time there were a few errant shots that ricocheted off of the same chain link fence, drawing over more curious dead. The cycle continued, and by the time another round of targets were exhausted, Jack was pleased to find that you’d made some decent progress. Maybe this could be done after all.

But alas, the universe rarely gives such victories without payment.

The ammunition between the group was critically low. Jack was fairly sure that the supply wouldn’t last another wave, not to mention the rest of the infected were too far off to be drawn in by the sound of another bullet against chain link. It appeared that you’d finally reached the hardest section of your endeavor – leaving your concealed area within the trees to take the fight to them.

Jack walked back down the tree line to you, the rest of the survivors following his lead until you were all clustered together again.

“Alright,” Jack said quietly, still paranoid that an errant undead would hear, “we’re gonna need to start makin’ our way around the perimeter. I know we don’t gotta lot of bullets left, so I’m gonna need everyone who can use an alternative weapon headin’ up the charge. Those who can’t either need to hang back with huntin’ knives or you can stay here in the trees and we’ll come back for ya, though I wouldn’t recommend it.”

He saw several of the civilians shake their heads at his last suggestion, clearly wanting to take the chance with their hunting knives rather than remain alone in the trees. Jack only nodded in response, and upon gathering the agents with him, grabbed the handle of his lasso. The rest of the agents did the same, a few also sporting lassos, others having whips, and other still having their own unconventional Statesman weapons. A few civilians, you included, stepped forward, taking out their own.

Jack would be lying if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat when he saw you with what used to be his whip.

Silence fell. Far-off shuffling and hungry grunts could be heard coming from the infected, as could a light wind weaving through the grass and fence. The apocalypse was far quieter than Jack would have originally imagined.

With a nod that was reciprocated by the group, Jack began to lead you through the trees and towards the nearest infected. You moved slowly, crouched low to try and keep as close to the ground as possible until you got within range again. Jack pressed the switch on his lasso, igniting the rope with an electric flair as he stood and grabbed a few infected at once before cinching the loop closed to bisect them. The fizzle of electricity attracted a few more infected, and before long the scene was alight with arcs of electric ropes coming from various angles as each Dragger and Runner was cut down with Statesman style.

As the group moved, more attention was drawn by the flashes of light, leading to more infected beginning to bear down on the small band of people. The lassos could only capture so many, and as a fresh wave of undead barreled toward you, Jack turned and found your eyes.

“Your turn, darlin’.”

You nodded, turning the whip electric before moving to the front of the squad. You’d held off up until now, not wanting the crack of your whip to draw too much attention. But the attention had long since been drawn, and if he were being honest, Jack was looking forward to watching you shine.

And shine you did.

You took a few steps ahead of the pack, circling the whip around your head before bringing it down with a satisfying crack that took out several infected with it. You continued, each time slicing across broad strokes of Draggers and Runners, quickly dispatching several that had gotten too close for Jack and the other agents to hit with lassos. The rest of the civilians sparked to life, also taking on the infected with their own weapons as the group moved across the expanse of weeds along the perimeter. Many infected pressed themselves onto the chain link fence, apparently not feeling the steel biting into them as it tore them apart under the weight of dozens more bodies pressing them into it. 

At least those were a few undead that you wouldn’t need to worry about.

But the horde inside of the fence continued to advance, climbing atop their fallen brethren to fall over onto the other side. These eager corpses were quickly dispatched, barely having time to stand on their feet again before they were being sliced apart, shot, or stabbed through the skull. 

The group trudged around the building, making one lap outside of the fence, then another lap inside. It appeared that the infected were taken off-guard by the sudden onslaught, and the entire process was more easily done than Jack would have ever imagined. As the group began their walk towards the main doors to the warehouse building that housed the main bunker doors, Jack found himself thinking about how the initial clearing of the surrounding area had been too easy. He still harbored some hope that the main bunker gate was fully functional and armed, but his hope was quickly waning as he considered how the group hadn’t accrued any losses thus far and had seemingly scored a rare victory.

The hope he had completely dissipated once the group continued to fight its way into the warehouse. There were fewer infected there, but still enough for Jack to know that there was no way you’d find the inner gate functional. You worked together to dispatch the dead that were on the main floor before descending to the lower level where the gate was, and sure enough, you were met with a veritable mountain of decayed corpses in front of a wide open security gate. The previous group had put up a hell of a fight, Jack had to give them that. 

Once again, the still-living infected were taken care of, though before descending the entry ramp and into the receiving area of the bunker, Jack huddled the group together and spoke quietly.

“Alright,” he said calmly as he subconsciously reached for your hand to steady himself, “Here’s what we’re gonna do. I know there’s some folks here with construction experience – you in particular, Agent Moonshine.” Jack nodded to one of the older agents, who nodded in return.

“So I want you to take anyone else who can help you get this gate shut again and start workin’ on it,” he continued, “the rest of us are gonna stay together and clear the bunker out. Take it slow, section by section. Start with the main receiving area, then go into the living area. We’ll figure out what’s next after that’s cleared out. Take your time. No need to be in a rush. I’d rather take it slow and be sure we’ve got ‘em all than rush and miss one or two, y’hear?”

The group collectively nodded, and Agent Moonshine set about gathering civilians and agents to help him get the main gate closed. It wouldn’t be easy, and Moonshine had told Jack up front that even if they could get it closed, it was unlikely they’d ever be able to get it open again. It was an option Jack was fine with, as long as it would keep them safe. As long as it would keep you safe.

His small band of cleaners descended the main ramp, finding dozens of infected wandering around the expanse of the receiving area. Between him with his lasso, you with your whip, and the other agents and civilians in attendance, even the Runners among the dead were easily taken care of, not to mention the Draggers. Next came the process of actually splitting the entire bunker into sections.

The process was slow. Each section of the bunker was meticulously searched, the group splitting into those doing the clearing and those attempting to repair the main gate. Jack stayed close to you, remaining a silent presence at your back as you both wandered down the section with the living quarters with the rest of the cleaners. Each door would have to be opened, each room checked for bodies, whether they still be moving or not.

The task was tedious, the Statesman having built enough rooms for a modest sized city underground. But you were both persistent, pressing your ears against the metal doors before opening them slowly to make sure no one was inside. From what Jack could tell, the same scenario had played out here that had played out back in the Kentucky bunker – the alarm had gone out when the gate started to give way, and the residents had evacuated. That was the only explanation Jack could give for the rooms that were closed tight with not a soul inside but still personal belongings in several of the rooms.

He found himself wishing the bunker’s previous inhabitants good luck. He hoped they’d managed to find safety out in the wasteland. He refused to dwell on the alternative.

After several hours of tension and silence, the living quarters were cleared. At least you’d all have a decently safe place to sleep in that evening. The cleaner group returned to the main area, finding the construction group hard at work attempting to salvage the main gate.

“How’s it goin’?” Tequila asked before Jack could utter the question himself.

“Not bad,” Ginger said, “though most of the actual tech is fried. We should be able to get it closed and locked again, but I wouldn’t count on getting it back open.”

“Gettin’ it closed is more than enough,” Jack said with a nod, “the emergency exit oughta still be intact. Which, come t’ think of it…”

Jack trailed off before motioning for his smaller group to follow him. If his theory from before was correct, the emergency exit would be wide open, and he wanted to get it closed again as quickly as possible.

The trek through the bunker was fraught with more Draggers and Runners, particularly near the kitchen and garden areas, though their numbers were small enough to be easily dispatched.

“I figured this place would’a been packed,” Jack said as you walked.

“Maybe they all found what they wanted and left,” you offered, “they probably all swarmed here for the people, and if they all evacuated, there’s not much else for them here.”

“Maybe,” Jack said, “though it’s still kinda strange. I keep expectin’ the other shoe to drop, y’know?”

“Or maybe that’s just cause you’re not used to anything going your way,” you teased as you nudged your shoulder against Jack’s. He considered that to be a very real possibility.

As you all approached the emergency gate, Jack was beyond relieved to find it still intact and seemingly functional. Several people helped him pull the gate back closed, making sure to latch it securely before stepping back. It was a surprisingly easy endeavor, and Jack only barely stopped himself from catasrophizing the worst-case scenario of the emergency exit being compromised and the main gate being unable to open.

No, instead he walked with the rest of you through the bunker, still continuing to section off areas to be cleared. Jack checked the weapons storage and was absolutely elated to find a gigantic cache of weapons and ammo, and experienced the same emotions when he found the food and water supplies still almost fully stocked. The lot of you could survive down here for months, if not years.

The kitchen area was slightly more difficult to clear out, not just because of the small pockets of clustered infected who had smelled food, but also due to the smell of the decayed food that had been left during the evacuation. The smell of death, Jack could handle. The smell of what had to have been at least weeks-old rotten food, though? Not so much. Nevertheless, the team persisted, grabbing trash bags to toss the old food in so it could be disposed of in the incinerators later along with the dispatched infected.

The garden was only slightly worse for wear, with most of the plants being taken care of by the automatic sunlamps and irrigation sprays. The few infected that you got rid of in this area was immediately removed, simply because the idea of eating plants that grew next to infected bodies made Jack’s stomach turn.

The other sections were cleared easily, and as your own team reconvened in the main area with the construction team, the full group ended up meeting at the entrance to the communications room.

“We good?” Jack asked.

“Sure are,” came the gruff voice of Agent Moonshine, “gate’s closed up good ‘n tight. Though I gotta warn ya, we ain’t ever gettin’ it open again. The only way to fully shut it was to disable the hinge mechanisms, so we’re only gettin’ through it again if we blow it up.”

“Well, hopefully it don’t come to that,” Jack said, relieved that, for now, it appeared that they’d manage to push back Armageddon and find a foothold in safety, “now how’s about we take a look at the comms?”

Jack opened the door, and was met with chaos.

Several of the screens were shattered, and there were a couple of control panels that looked as if someone – or something – had ripped off the touchpad and keys by immense force. Streaks of dried blood ending in handprints decorates the walls, and in one corner was the deeply decayed body of what Jack could only assume was an agent, judging by the clothing. However, the body’s face mirrored that of the infected. A chill ran through the group as a stark realization breezed along you.

One of the agents had somehow gotten infected. Perhaps it had happened before the gate was breached. Perhaps after. With how decayed the body was, it was impossible to tell. But either the agent had locked themselves in the room to isolate themself from the rest of the survivors when the inevitable happened, or they’d succumbed without warning and gotten locked in by someone else. Either way, the agent hadn’t survived, and had taken several pieces of equipment out with them.

As callous as he knew it was, Jack’s top priority upon the discovery was to remove the body and restore the comms as soon as possible. He needed to know if any of the other bunkers survived. He needed to know that his little ragtag team of people weren’t alone in the afterlife. So he got to work, helping to carefully drag the body out the door to place away from the room so it could be collected later.

“Alright,” he said upon his re-entry, “first impression. Can we get this up and runnin’?”

“There’s a chance,” one of the techs Jack recognized as Agent Soda chimed in, “if only the screens and top consoles are damaged, then the core mechanisms should still work. With enough Macgyver-ing, we oughta be able to at least get some kind of signal goin’.”

“Good,” Jack said with a nod, “let’s get on it in the mornin’, then. For now, I want everyone on burn detail. The incinerators are still goin’ on the lower level. They’re the only things down there, so that’s where all the bodies are goin’. I want ‘em gone before we bed down for the night, and considering I’m sure y’all are tired as hell, I suggest we get a move on.”

A series of nods moved through the group, and the task was soon underway. The group scattered into pairs to help move the dead, and Jack and you made your way into one of the more secluded areas.

Before either of you could say a word, you both turned to each other and yanked one another into a desperate kiss. It was an action full of smiling lips and grabbing hands, the only reaction either of you could think to make after snatching a victory like yours out of the wolfish jaws of defeat. Your lips had barely left each other’s before your arms were enveloping the other.

“We did it, Jack,” you said, your voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt, “holy shit, we did it!”

“Yeah,” Jack said with a laugh, “Yeah, we did, baby.”

You pulled back from Jack’s embrace, bringing your hands up to cradle his face. You gave him a smile that was so full of affection and relief that it made his chest ache. Jack knew that he was mirroring your expression, and before he could stop himself, he pulled you in for another kiss. Slower this time, a once desperate action that was suddenly replaced by adoration and promise.

The two of you had walked through hell together, hand in hand, and had kept walking until you’d forced your way into the gates of heaven.

“We should probably get a move-on,” Jack murmured against your lips, “as soon as we get all these bodies taken care of and find ourselves a room, we’ll have all the time to do whatever we want.”

You nodded, a slight laugh emanating from you before you backed away to grab a pair of thick leather gloves from your back. Jack did the same before joining you to carry the first of many infected dead down to the incinerators.

When your immediate area was cleared, you and Jack joined other pairs to aid them in clearing theirs as well. More pairs would join in once their chosen sections were cleaned of corpses, and within a few hours, the last body was being tossed into the incinerator, along with everyone’s gloves. There were more stored away in one of the rooms, and Jack wanted the tainted pieces of fabric disposed of as quickly as possible. From there, the group made their way back to the main receiving area, though instead of moving on ahead into the living quarters, they all stopped to look back at Jack, who stopped as well. 

“What now, boss?” came Tequila’s voice from the back of the group.

“Let’s get some sleep,” he said, “go find y’all some rooms. Some of ‘em have… belongings still in ‘em, so if you wanna avoid those, you can. But you don’t have to. Either way, we’ll regroup tomorrow mornin’. The techs can get to work tryin’ to establish the comms, others can work on tryin’ to reinforce that main gate. I wanna be 100% sure it won’t go nowhere.”

The group nodded, then turned and made their way towards the rooms. Once Jack found one that appeared to have not been used the first time, he stepped aside to allow you entry first before he shut the door and locked it. The two of you sat your packs down, and just as Jack turned the lights off and plunged the room into darkness, he felt you pull him to you, resuming your activities from earlier. 

Jack made love to you slowly that night, quietly pouring his love, adoration, and affection from himself to you in any way he thought possible. It was nothing compared to getting to fully see you in the pale morning light as he had back in the little civilian-ran town, but Jack was far from complaining. Between hushed sounds and quiet declarations of love, Jack knew that any way that would allow him to have you like this, he would gladly take, time and time again. You were safe, and you were here, and you loved him just as he loved you, and that was all that mattered to him. 

You both awoke slowly the next morning, taking your time in getting ready for the day. Once again, a luxury that Jack had yearned for in the weeks following the fall of the last bunker, and one that he was not going to take for granted. The two of you walked out into the main receiving area, finding several others already awake and milling around. Several people were already at the main gate, no doubt discussing proper ways to fortify it and make it as impenetrable as it should have originally been. Through the window on the door to the comms area, Jack could see a small band of people hard at work cleaning up the area, as well as observing the demolished pieces of equipment to see what they could salvage. Jack wished both teams all the luck he could manage, knowing a connection to someone – anyone – would help boost morale significantly.

Days went by of the same routine. Those with construction experience, led by Agent Moonshine, would continue to reinforce the main gate, as well as occasionally check the emergency exit for any flaws. The techs would be in the comms room for hours, carefully dismantling the damaged communications technology before attempting everything in their power to try and fix it again. The rest of the group made do with their standard chores, such as caring for the gardens, taking stock of the supplies, or canning and preserving food that wasn’t immediately used to eat. There were several times where you and Jack would quietly discuss the future. You were both hesitant to consider this bunker “home”, and Jack frequently noticed the handle of your whip sticking out of your pocket. As if you were keeping it there in case of emergency. 

Oh, how he longed to give you the day where the whip could be sat upon a shelf somewhere to collect dust.

After around a week of the same routine, you and Jack were approached by a breathless and seemingly elated Ginger as you walked through the main receiving area.

“We’ve got it!” she cried, “We’ve got a connection! We sent out a signal, and it looks like the Denver bunker heard it and responded. We’ve got them on a live feed now, and they want to talk to you.”

You and Jack shared a look before rushing behind Ginger and into the main communication room, with the rest of the band of survivors quickly following suit. Ginger’s voice had carried, and it wasn’t long before the entire group was squeezed into the comms room. It was cleaner than Jack had last seen it, and though the damaged screens were still off, one of the larger screens was broadcasting. There was a younger agent on screen, and though Jack didn’t recognize him from anywhere he could tell the other man was an agent by the Statesman lapel pin he wore on his shirt.

“I gotta say,” the agent from Denver began with once the group had gathered into the small comms room, “y’all are a sight for sore eyes.”

“So are you,” Jack said, “You guys got any kinda news from the outside? All we saw on the way up here were a couple abandoned towns and a military setup.”

“And that’s about all you’re gonna see,” the agent responded, “at least in the States. We haven’t been able to establish any kind of communication with anywhere else just yet, save for some setups in Canada and Mexico, both of which are military-sponsored. Naw, from what we’ve been able to find, the military’s been hard at work tryin’ to take back some of the bigger cities, but it’s slow goin’. Most of ‘em are burnt to the ground, anyway. There are some smaller civilian outfits scattered around, mostly out this way and in areas where the State isn’t as heavy-handed and the population isn’t as large. But for the most part, the only kind of large settlements you’ll find are military ones. And they’re not that great, from what we’ve been hearin’.”

Jack nodded, simultaneously feeling relieved that you hadn’t stopped at the one you’d passed up, but also beginning to worry about a potential military outfit knocking on the bunker door at some point. If they knew the bunkers existed, then they’d surely be on their way for them.

“Haven’t told ‘em where y’all are, have ya?” Jack asked.

“No sir,” the agent replied, “they’re still attemptin’ to get some kinda location from us, but our tech blocks any kind of trace and I sure as hell ain’t tellin’ em.”

“Good,” Jack said, “keep it that way. Have y’all been able to find any kind of information on the… infection? At all?”

“Bits and pieces,” said the agent, “from what our technicians and medics have been able to discern, whatever it is mainly attacks the frontal lobe of the brain. The part responsible for all our moral decisions and whatnot. We haven’t been able to figure out what turns some into Draggers and others into Runners though. We gave up on that a while back.”

“Can they die?” Jack asked, “Without help, I mean. Is there a possibility that one day they’ll all just… die off?”

“We’re not sure about that, either,” the agent responded with a sigh, “we’ve seen ones so emaciated and thinned out it was a wonder they were still movin’ at all, but they were. Just as well as if they’d been fed. So we don’t know yet. Maybe they can, it just takes ‘em longer than it would take us.”

Jack nodded again, as if contemplating the man’s words. The world still knew so little about what it was truly fighting against, and if they were to find out that the virus – or whatever had caused this – rendered the victims practically immortal, Jack wasn’t sure how he’d react to that news. He thanked the Denver agent for his information, then scheduled regular meetings between the bunkers, less to talk business or news and more to reassure everyone involved that the other bunker was still active and the residents still alive. The agent nodded, and the connection was cut once again. 

The group dispersed from the room, quietly attempting to wrap their collective minds around the information that was just given to them. Jack wasn’t surprised that the States was effectively cut off from the rest of the world. Nor was he surprised that the military appeared to be rather pushy in attempting to locate the bunkers. The military had been waiting for a situation like this for centuries. Complete power, no checks or balances to be had. They were having a field day with it, Jack was sure. In the back of his mind, he hoped that no one from the State tried to contact their own bunker. Maybe their revived communication signal would fly under the radar, undetected and unnoticed. 

But that was a worry for a different time. 

The Denver bunker kept up their meeting schedule, as did yours. Most of the time it was only Jack, yourself, and a few others who attended the meetings, though Jack had extended invitations to everyone else in his bunker. No sense in hiding anything now, and as far as he was concerned, it would do more harm than good to keep trusted civilians in the dark.

A few days passed, a routine beginning to develop once more. A quiet sense of normalcy, just like you’d all had in the first bunker, though this time there was a noticeable undercurrent of alertness buried beneath the peace. A silent agreement among everyone present that one must be on their toes at all times, ready to flee again at a moment’s notice. A silent agreement that complacency would no doubt bring tragedy. The agents over in Denver informed Jack that they weren’t actually that close to Denver at all – they were more remote, more nestled into the mountains. The environment was more hostile towards the infected, so the agents there had managed to secure the time and resources to construct a barrier outside of the main bunker area for people go to and spend some time in the sunshine. Jack was helpless to stop the pang of envy that shot through him at such news. The area around their own base was mostly grassland; flat expanses of area that were easily accessible for anyone, even the dead. 

One afternoon, the lead agent in Denver requested a private call with Jack. Upon the rest of the attendees leaving the room, the other agent spoke.

“So,” he began, “I’ve been talkin’ with the folks over here. And I’d like to extend an offer.”

“…go on,” Jack said, already having his interest piqued.

“We’ve got enough resources here and we’re doin’ well,” the agent said, “so I wanted to offer a way out for y’all. We’ve got a couple’a choppers we can send your way. Pick y’all up, bring ya here. All we ask in return is some helpin’ hands when you arrive, and all the supplies in the Chicago bunker that y’all can manage to bring with you. Consolidate our resources, so to speak.”

Jack reeled. On one hand, your group had finally managed to find another sense of normalcy within the bunker. But on the other, the Denver bunker was making him an offer he couldn’t refuse. One of safety, of a means of long-term sustainability and a way to get some sunshine while they were at it. 

“Can you give me 24 hours?” Jack finally asked, “I can’t make this decision on my own. I’ve gotta run it by my people.”

The Denver agent nodded as he said he understood, and then the feed was cut once more. Jack knew what the group would say, but he still needed to know for sure. 

He walked out of the comms room to find the rest of the group waiting, looking at him in anticipation for what had been discussed. 

“So?” Tequila asked, “What’s goin’ on?”

“What’s goin’ on is that the folks over in Denver are offerin’ us a home,” Jack said, “All they want from us is as many supplies from here as we can take, and some helping hands once we get there. I told ‘em I’d run it by y’all before givin’ em an answer.”

A litany of elated gasps went through the group, along with various overlapping voiced telling Jack that they agreed with the offer. Jack, meanwhile, found his way to you.

“Whaddya think, darlin’?” he asked, taking your hands in his.

“Well, I know what my choice would be,” you said, mirroring Jack’s own words from back at the civilian settlement, “but you know I ain’t goin’ anywhere you ain’t. So where are we going, cowboy?”

Jack smiled at you then.

“Looks like we’re goin’ to Denver.”

Jack gave his answer to the Denver agents the next day, and with a nod and a promise of swiftness, a plan was in place. Everyone was to gather as many supplies as they could, whether it be food, weapons, medical kits, or anything else they had on hand, and store them away in packs. The pair of choppers on their way would land as close to the emergency exit as they could, and everyone would carry as many packs as possible to load up the vehicles with. Once the supplies and the survivors were on board, they’d take off, and they wouldn’t be coming back. The agents had been forewarned of the weight capacity of the helicopters, and this was taken into consideration as new packs were made. Preference was given to food, then med kits, followed by weapons then any other essentials. 

Early the next morning, Jack received word from Denver that the helicopters were on their way. According to the dispatch, they would be arriving in six to seven hours, giving the group plenty of time to finish up their last-minute duties around the base. 

The bags were gathered near the emergency exit, and as the time got nearer, a few people stayed at the gate to alert the rest when the choppers touched down. Jack knew that they had to make this quick. The hungry dead would no doubt be able to hear the helicopter engines for miles in the silent wasteland. You all needed to be in the air before they had the chance to pinpoint the source of the noise and make their way there. 

Sure enough, a call came from the emergency door around six and a half hours after the original transmission from Denver told Jack that the choppers were heading your way. The group huddled near the exit, each person carrying as many packs as they could manage, but some still sitting on the floor, necessitating a second trip. It was something Jack would rather not have done, but he was sure the supplies in the bags would come in handy later on down the road, and he loathed to leave them behind when he knew what valuables they contained.

The wind shifted first, and as soon as Jack saw the landing gear through the small window in the emergency door, he and a few other agents worked together to open it fully to allow the rest of the group outside.

The sound was deafening compared to the silence that Jack was used to. Between the roaring of the engines and the sound of the blades above the vehicles, he had to shout to make himself even marginally heard.

“Alright, everyone load up!” he yelled, “Any agents who can, I want you to go back and grab the last few bags, then we’ll lift off!”

Jack made his first trip to unload his pack, catching the eye of the helicopter pilot along the way. A helicopter pilot who bore a striking and uncanny resemblance to himself, actually, albeit with slightly more facial scruff. But Jack shook his head, willing himself to focus on the more important task at hand. 

One more pack left. That was all that was waiting just inside the emergency exit door. The rest of the agents and civilians, you included, had already boarded the helicopter. As Jack was running back to the choppers, however, his heart leapt into his throat.

Just over the horizon he could see the biggest horde of infected that he’d ever seen in his life. And from the looks of it, they were all Runners. And they’d spotted the helicopters.

Jack took off at a sprint, running as fast as he could given the extra weight on his back. The helicopter pilots had obviously spotted the horde before he had, as the second one was already taking off, and the first one was just beginning to leave the ground. He saw you at the open side doors of the one that was lifting off, one of your hands holding onto the frame to keep yourself inside and the other outstretched towards him.

In a desperate last-ditch attempt, and with the helicopter quickly rising and the infected quickly descending, Jack tossed the pack into the chopper and jumped.

Whoever - or _what_ ever - Jack had been praying to had mercifully listened this time, and his hands found yours just before they were too far for him to reach. You held him with a vice grip, helping him into the helicopter before the doors were slid shut, securing him inside. As soon as he was stable, your hands found his cheeks as you yanked him into a kiss, pouring every ounce of relief you had into it. When you pulled away, matching Jack’s heavy adrenaline-filled breaths, he took the opportunity to pull you to him before settling onto the floor against one of the side panels.

As Jack settled into the helicopter with you, finally taking a moment to breathe again, he looked over to where he had you tucked under his arm and into his side. You caught his eye, and as you did you lifted a hand up to run your fingertips along his cheek. Jack leaned over, pulling your lips to his in a tender kiss, not caring who inevitably saw the display of affection. As he parted from you, Jack let himself lean against you, as you leaned on him in return. Through the wide windows, Jack could barely make out the dark mass of infected pooling just below, a danger growing smaller by the second. And he breathed.

The two of you had made it through the impossible. And at the end of the world, you still had each other.

You were finally safe, and you were going home.

————————————————————————

**TWO MONTHS LATER**

Jack sat with you silently atop the concrete outer wall of the bunker. The sun was setting just beyond the mountains, creating a lazy haze of hues in the sky as you both looked out over the landscape. You held your little plush cat in your hands, something that Jack had noticed that you’d started to do more often since arriving in Denver. He hadn’t asked if there was a particular reason why, figuring that it was purely because you felt safe enough to keep the small thing out of your bag for extended periods of time without worrying about possibly losing it in a last-minute evacuation. 

The wall that the Denver bunker had constructed around their outdoor area was sturdy enough to keep out any kind of horde, no matter what size or type. The only way they’d be able to get in would be to climb over each other, but the automated turrets that were evenly spaced along the structure would have that taken care of long before it became an issue. One of the advantages of using Statesman tech in construction, Jack supposed. Plus if push ever came to shove, there was always the fortified walls and gates of the bunker. Denver was nothing if not observant, and had taken great strides towards learning from the other bunkers’ downfalls. The rest of them could have done the same, if only they’d had time and mercy from the universe. If only.

“We’re safe here, aren’t we?” you asked. It was less a question that you _needed_ an answer to, and more a question that you already _knew_ the answer to.

“Yeah,” Jack replied softly, looking over at you, “yeah. We are.”

You turned to look back at him, and before Jack knew it, his hand was on your cheek and he was pulling you into a slow kiss. One kiss turned to two turned to three turned to several more; actions that were once a luxury but were now as commonplace as breathing. The two of you eventually shifted apart, and as you rested your forehead on Jack’s with your eyes still closed, you spoke.

“Hey Jack?” you asked quietly into the air between the two of you.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” Jack responded, just as softly. You moved back ever so slightly, opening your eyes for him to get lost in.

“Let’s get married,” you said simply.

“Yeah?” Jack responded, a grin blossoming on his face and butterflies blooming in his chest.

“Yeah,” you said, “Only if you want to, of course.”

“Baby,” Jack replied, pulling you in for another round of kisses melded together with smiles, “there ain’t nothin’ else I’d want more.”

The world may have gone to hell – and caught the express train when it did – but Jack would be forever grateful for the small expanse of heaven that you’d both fought so hard to carve out of the brimstone.


End file.
